#and that their first interaction is so intense lmao }}

[asyipyip]

girl its so embarrassing but i love jonmartin so fucking much i havent cared this much about a ship since like. high school

[outeremissary]

Poll about creating characters for a game really has me thinking about my methods because while I don't usually situate a character in the world/create a full backstory beforehand I feel like I need such a strong sense of who a character is, how they behave, and at least the skeleton of why they behave like that that I usually get bored and feel like I'm playing some flat nothing when I don't have that. I guess that isn't the same as having a fully rigid concept, especially since I'm happy to change things radically in conversation with a game when it's going well, but it's still enough of a distinct Guy Who Already Exists In My Brain I couldn't call it a loose concept. And usually when things go well for my looser concept characters and I develop them during a playthrough I just hit a point partway through where it's like... cool! I have completed the concept for this character now, I can stop playing and relocate them to a Real Story. They almost never feel like they fit right until they're in something where they're starting from that state, haha. I'm like this with tabletop stuff as well. I'm not always the ten page backstory guy but if I'm not at least coming in with some needlessly complex portrait of personality the character is not going to stick for more than a oneshot. Just doesn't interest me to play! I don't feel like I'm seeing through their eyes yet. Can't get in the right zone mentally. I think that's what it's really about for me- a loose concept is rarely immersive, and without that immersion I just struggle to feel like the actions are coming from the character instead of me and come together into a cohesive story about the character (rather than one about me pushing buttons).

[revclver-jesus]

“ this is what we’ve been waiting for. ” (@hellboundhermit)

✞  ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ He's moonstruck.

His shining eyes could be mirrors, capturing the moon in its exact shade as if his soul was made of the same material. The moon was so close, so close it could collide. Eyes, usually tired and so limp, were wide with pure and lucid awe. He was happy. Overjoyed.

" Its as though I've been waiting all my life for it, Jin... this salvation. Eternal rest for a tired world. After everything... to see it with our own eyes? Did you ever imagine it would be quite like this? " His hands outstretch as though he thought he could welcome the massive moon into his arms, lifting from the railing of this strange, distorted balcony the tower as manifest as though just to allow someone to marvel at his god's work. And if you looked down, you could see the now waking mundane society looking up in blind confusion as the midnight hour no longer hid itself from the world. But they didn't panic. They weren't so afraid anymore. It was truly a beautiful night to die with his loyal partner in all this. Someone to bare witness. Someone to talk to. Someone who understood... But long fingers curl in as the awe subsides to pressing concerns. And he shuts his eyes with a sigh.

" ... If only we could enjoy it in peace. " Golden eyes slit open and glance the way they came, a tension growing in his chest, one he never showed beneath his iron-clad confidence, his unreadable frown. SEES wasn't going to back down. And the truth is he... didn't know what these other persona users were capable of. And worst of all... for once, the wheel of fortune wasn't sure he had the resolve to accept a fate not in his favor. The disappointment would just be too much. But he softly laughs, shaking his head.

" But, why suffer worrying, hm? This present moment is all that matters. " He gives the other his serene smile. It might be their last moment of peace they'll ever have.

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 1

word count — 34.5k words

genre — smut, fluff, angst

pairing — lee jeno x reader

part 1 — part 2

synopsis — campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

chapter contents — explicit sexual content, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play consensual choking, consensual slapping, orgasm denial/control, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, very hard dom!jeno, sub!reader, consistent unprotected sex (be safe!), use of ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding, reader rides jeno, exhibitionism, intense emotional dynamics, strong language, and explicit content, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking, alcohol, a lot of college party scenes, oc is uninterested in jeno at first but he changes that (and quickly!), mentions of fuckboy!jeno, initially fucks her roommate, but falls in love with yn’s stuff that’s around the apartment, himym!scene inspo, if you know you know, oc is a hot bassist in a band, jeno sees her play, gets hard and turned on seeing her play the strings with her fingers, imagines touching her, jeno and oc unexpectedly have the exact same matching tattoo, so many girl moments, kpop ‘00 liners, nct ‘00 line, sunwoo, eric, yeji and oc are in a band, inappropriate, mature humor, jeno is very forward, very confident, very daring, very self assured and dominant, arin causes a lot of trouble, jeno makes reader very shy and flustered, intimidating jeno, sweetheart jeno, emotional moments, appearance from nct foreign swagger line, jeno takes reader home, boyfriend jeno (kinda), watch as jeno and oc fall in love, jeno always touching reader under her skirt lmao, smut text portion, so much angst and pain, heartbreak

authors note — happy birthday lee jeno <3 i love you. please interact and leave an ask or message mwah. also there will be a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up. also thank you my bae @jenolala for helping me with ideas and being my personal reader i love you.

in your eyes masterlist

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Lee Jeno was the bane of your existence.

The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Lee Jeno. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.

You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts against your own will.

Nayoung’s infatuation with Jeno has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of God among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He couldn’t be that good…

Lee Jeno was the craze around campus, and he had always been. He was apparently good in bed, a phenomenal lover with a big cock, smart, hot, handsome, and knew how to fuck and treat a girl right. He was social and friendly, outgoing, and everyone knew who he was and everyone loved him. But not you though. For you, it’s all just noise. You’re simply not interested in him.

You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts. You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her.

“I'm not even talking...” you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Jeno constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.

“He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me,” Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments— Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.

Then there's Lee Jeno, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.

He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.

As you catch sight of Jeno turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.

It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Lee Jeno carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.

“We still on for tonight, baby?” Jeno's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says,

“Yes, I'll be waiting for you.” Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. “I'll be yours to play with all night long.”Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.

Sitting beside you, Lee Jeno has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker - popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.

Jeno’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.

But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.

Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Jeno and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions.

You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Jeno and Nayoung, Donghyuck catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited.

Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.

But then Renjun chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage."

At Renjun's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your “personal choices” became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.

In that moment, Jeno's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit—Jeno is undeniably hot.

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Jeno breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Renjun's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Donghyuck and Renjun's playful torment. Yet, Jeno's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment.

──────────────────────────────

One day you’re gonna cut Lee Jeno’s cock off.

There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.

The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the musical compositions you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Lee Jeno, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.

She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Jeno and his cock.

(Unfortunately)

Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Jeno seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here.

Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.

With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jeno's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Jeno is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.

The moment he entered the house for the first time, Jeno became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set.

"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.

Jeno spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"

"Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts.

Jeno shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney. "What about this?”

"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.

"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Jeno says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Jeno catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."

"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply.

"Damn, that's cool," Jeno whispers. "What's she like?"

You gulp nervously, wondering why Lee Jeno wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar.

“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!

Jeno chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing her major, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."

Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”

Yeah, because they're not interesting, Jeno thinks.

Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Jeno. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."

“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.”

Jeno scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool).

“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”

"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Jeno asks.

"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.

Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon.

She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Jeno left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Jeno know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you.

She did have a really fucking cool roommate.

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The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"

Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"

You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.

"And he likes you."

You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."

Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Jeno possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fucking, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.

"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."

Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Lee Jeno? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy with no heart, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"

"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"

You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.

"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"

"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.

"But I know that you’re way more than that! You’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Lee Jeno even asked for the name of your band."

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What you knew about Lee Jeno’s cock was against your own will.

Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Jeno’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique."

You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Jeno have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.

They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.

"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Jeno’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Jeno’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher.

Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."

Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity.

She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."

You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Jeno's sexual conquests.

"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.

“Do not go all ‘Joe Goldberg’ on me!”

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words.

Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.

"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.

"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.

You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Jeno thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Jeno’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.

“Thanks a lot,” you snort.

“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.

“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.

“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”

He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice.

Nayoung goes back to praising Jeno for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,”

A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Jeno. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."

"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."

"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?"

You had never spoken a word to Lee Jeno in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Jeno, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.

"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Lee Jeno, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.

"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.

"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.

"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare.

Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Eunji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Jeno closer is already in motion.

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Jeno received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.

He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Jeno enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.

It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Jeno eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.

Jeno's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.

As Jeno strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.

The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.

A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.

Amidst the noise and the crowd, Jeno spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.

It’s you.

Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.

Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Jeno spellbound.

For a moment, time seems to stand still as Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are.

In that fleeting moment, as Jeno's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.

The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Jeno, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.

Your mind races with questions. Why was Lee Jeno here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits.

You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.

Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.

As Jeno watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.

The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Jeno feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper.

What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Jeno's veins.

As you lock eyes with him and smile, Jeno feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted.

You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.

He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Jeno attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.

In that moment, Jeno finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.

He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Jeno, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.

Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.

Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.

Turning to face her, Jeno's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.

Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.

"I'm off to Eunji’s house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.

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As Jeno steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.

Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil.

As the conversation between you and Jeno progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Jeno, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.

Conversation starts light, with Jeno leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.

You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.

"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Jeno continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.

You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.

"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.

The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Jeno’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.

Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”

Jeno’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.

Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Jeno's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.

The way Jeno looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist.

There's just something about him.

There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.

There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.

You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.

You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Jeno, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air.

As Jeno's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine.

Jeno's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.

"That's... I have the same tattoo," Jeno reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection.

For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.

The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Jeno, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change.

You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.

Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.

A wicked grin spreads across Jeno’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.

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Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.

The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.

His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.

His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.

As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.

Jeno’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs.

Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned.

"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.

"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.

You've heard Nayoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.

In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.

He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.

With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.

Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"

Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core.

Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin.

He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body.

His breath hitches when he finally sees your tattoo, it really was identical to his. With a hungry look in his eyes, he leans in and presses his lips against the outline of your tattoo, tracing it with tantalizing kisses. His lips move slowly, sensually, as he explores every inch of the intricate design, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body.

You gasp as his tongue joins the dance, tracing the delicate lines of your tattoo with a teasing touch. Each stroke of his tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, igniting a fiery passion that consumes you both. In the heat of the moment, you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips and tongue caressing your skin, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

“You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.

His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.

The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.

As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.

With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.

As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.

"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Jeno," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.

"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin.

With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.

"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.

As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.

He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.

You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Jeno whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face.

His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.

"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.

"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.

"Don't laugh at me," you pout.

"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.

"I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."

Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.

His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.

As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.”

You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.

"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Jeno positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.

Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.

He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.

Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you.

With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.

He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire.

He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy.

And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied.

As Jeno pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.

“Please, Jeno,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision.

Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness.

As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.

"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.

He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.

As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth.

He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more.

You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement

But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance.

You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”

“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort.

“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.

As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.

His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”

As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.

He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.

"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking.

With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.

“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.”

Jeno’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs.

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.

Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.

In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.

Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.

With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.

With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper

As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.

“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.

Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.

Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”

Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.

You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.

His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.

“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”

His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”

"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up."

His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Jeno ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.

As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.

Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.

He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance.

Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.

Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.

But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.

──────────────────────────────

‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from?

“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?”

He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.”

As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.

Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”

He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."

As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Jeno in a way you never have before.

“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.

He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.

As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Jeno’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.

His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.

You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.

Jeno, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.

“Did anyone get you this one?” Jeno points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact.

You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set.

An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.

“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Jeno’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.

You nod. “My best friend.”

“You seem really different from each other,” Jeno observes.

“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”

You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.

“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”

Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”

Jeno’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”

Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”

As Jeno hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation.

“Why did you start playing bass?” Jeno’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.

You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”

“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.

You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”

Jeno shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”

You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Jeno observes, his gaze lingering on your face.

“Or Ryujin,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Jeno’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.

“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”

Jeno shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”

You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”

Jeno chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.

You and Jeno have been talking for what felt like hours.

The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.

His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Jeno's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Jeno's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension.

His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.

You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.

You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.

“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.

“Your taste is… amazing.”

He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Jeno has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.

The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.

──────────────────────────────

You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Jeno consume your mind every time you close your eyes.

Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Jeno's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.

You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing.

“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.

As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.

The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.

Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.

Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.

There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny.

“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.

Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy.

The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.

Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Lee Jeno checking you out.”

Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Lee Jeno’s massive cock.”

The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.

You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.

He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.

You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”

As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Jeno left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.”

You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”

Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Jeno fucked you in it all night long.”

Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.

But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Jeno, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.

Nayoung joins in with a chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. "That's not true, he lost it to Arin. But he's had multiple threesomes and orgies," she chimes in, somehow knowing everything about everyone. She even knew who you had lost your virginity to even though you had sworn to keep it a secret.

“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?”

“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.

You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.”

“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.

“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Jeno, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.

“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.

“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”

Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”

Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.

Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing more. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.

However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Jeno, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous?

But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Jeno is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.

Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him.

As Jeno adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.

He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.

Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.

Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do.

Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Jeno!” He motions for him to come over.

As Jeno approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. His full name ‘Lee Jeno.’ was neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Jeno bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.

As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Jeno, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked.

His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Jeno is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.

Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.

As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Jeno’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table.

The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts

"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.

Jeno pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.

“Are your legs okay?” Jeno asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.

You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.

His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.

"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.

With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.

As Jeno's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself.

Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.

Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart.

──────────────────────────────

You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.

Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically.

Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.

“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.

The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.

“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.

“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.

“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.

“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.

“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.

“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.

“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.

The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.

However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.

You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.

Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.

“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.

“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.

“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.

You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.

After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.

“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”

You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit.

Your heart sinks when you see who walks in —it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.

Of course you know who she is—someone in the year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.

She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be.

And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?

She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present.

You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."

He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.

Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Jeno fucking her?"

You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Jeno and Arin.

Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words.

──────────────────────────────

As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.

You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.

As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket

As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.

Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.

Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here.

As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.

You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”

Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.

"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.

Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Jeno," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.

But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.

"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.

You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.

She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"

You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.

Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.

"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.

Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.

You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"

Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.

"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.

You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Jeno-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.

While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Jeno strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him.

He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jaemin, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Jeno who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.

Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Jeno’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.

Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Jeno since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.

Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.

“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.

“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.

Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.

You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”

“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.

You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”

“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you.

Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.

You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Your voice trails off when you see it’s Jeno you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.

He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.

Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.

Jeno, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.

You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.

With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Jeno and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Jeno, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.

As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Jeno. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.

Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.

“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Jeno wouldn’t easily spot you here.

The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Jeno walked in, accompanied by Jaemin. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.

Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”

As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.

While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”

The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Jeno turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.

The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.

You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Jeno, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.

The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Jeno. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him.

After the lecture, you spot Jaemin lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jaemin was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Jeno’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Jeno weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.

As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jaemin approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.

“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jaemin says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.

You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”

“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jaemin continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Jeno’s actually a decent guy.”

“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”

Jaemin’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.

“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jaemin continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”

His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jaemin walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Jeno could lead.

──────────────────────────────

The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.

Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Jeno standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jaemin’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Jeno you’re here in this moment with him.

“Hey,” Jeno greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.

You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Jeno,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.

As you walk together, Jeno’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…”

Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently.

Or so you wished.

His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?

The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Jeno’s words.

Jeno closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”

Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.

He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.

As Jeno's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him… The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence.

“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.

You give a small nod. “Maybe.”

“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest.

“Eric will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?”

He smirks. “Close second.”

──────────────────────────────

“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.

Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”

You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”

“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.

“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.

“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.

You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.

“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.

“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.

Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.

“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.

“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.

Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.

But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.

Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.

As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.

You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.

“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.

Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.

In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.

“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.

──────────────────────────────

As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.

A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.

Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.

You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.

It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.

The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.

Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere.

As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.

“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.

Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around.

As Jaemin’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?

One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.

"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Jeno on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.

Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd.

You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.

Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.​

The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.

You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji.

You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"

Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"

He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."

Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else.

Jeno.

He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Jeno is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.

You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.

He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.

The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away.

This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.

Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.

The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Jeno standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

As Jeno steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.

He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.

As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.

In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.

His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.

“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again.

“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.

“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.

As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.

“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.

There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.

Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Jeno's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.

With each movement, Jeno grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency

"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated.

You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.

As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him.

As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.

With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.

With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.

"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"

With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.

With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair,

Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."

You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.

But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.

You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.

"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."

His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth,

As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum.

He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."

You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest.

With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.

In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.

Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.

With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control.

His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.

You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.

Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.

With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.

Jeno can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.

Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.

As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Jeno, Jeno," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.

He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Jeno's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.

As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Jeno’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him.

“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.

You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.

But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.

As Jeno holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.

“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.

Positioning himself behind you, Jeno aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.

His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.

With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.

In the heat of the moment, Jeno’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building.

With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Jeno

With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.

He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.”

Jeno’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.”

With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Jeno’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.

──────────────────────────────

Jeno’s house is not what you expected.

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Jeno’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Jeno’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.

“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Jeno chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.

“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.

Jeno chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jaemin, Renjun, and Donghyuck. Shotaro and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.

He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Donghyuck. “Donghyuck can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.

“As for Renjun, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully.

“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.

He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”

“And Jaemin?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people

“I love Jaemin.” He responds quickly and surely.

“Awww.” You coo.

Jeno’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jaemin and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”

He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.”

He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jaemin.

He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.

“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.

“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”

The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen.

“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.

As you and Jeno chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jaemin entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.

Jaemin’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Jeno with company. Jeno, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.

However, the quiet moment shifts as Jaemin finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.

Jeno simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jaemin’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”​

Some time passes and Jeno leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Jeno himself.

On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books.

The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand.

As Jeno’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”

You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”

Before you can finish, Jeno is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.

The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Jeno’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Jeno bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you.

Does he realise how hot that was?

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.

You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.

As Jeno fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.

Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen— Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.

“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Jeno’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.

The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Jeno, how easily you find joy in simple moments.

“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”

Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.

As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Jeno chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.

You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”

Jeno’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.

“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals.

As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.

Jeno’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.

You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.

Without hesitation, Jeno offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now.

He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.

“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception.

Jeno reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.

He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.

But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,”

Jeno sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.

“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.

The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.

Jeno’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.

The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Jeno’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?

You feel his warm breath on your skin as Jeno leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.

“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jeno plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.

“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.

You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”

He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly.

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You fidget with the hem of Jeno’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Jeno follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.

The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Jeno’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Jeno’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.

Jaemin spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.

Donghyuck stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.

You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Renjun leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Despite the barrage of teasing, Jeno remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.

You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Jeno’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Jeno, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.

With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.

You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Jeno's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.

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As the weeks pass, your interactions with Jeno become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out. You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.

Lee Jeno was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.

(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though).

You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.

In getting to know Jeno, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Jeno exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.

Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.

Despite his wild side, Jeno displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.

You also love when he kisses you.

The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.

It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.

Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.

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You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.

With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.

He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.

Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent.

In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.

He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.

You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.

“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.

He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.

The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.

His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.

“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.

You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.

He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.

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As time passed, Jeno’s friends became an integral part of your life, their presence a constant presence in your shared moments. You found yourself spending more and more time at his house, naturally integrating yourself into his circle of friends. Initially intimidating, you soon discovered that they had big hearts and welcomed you with open arms

Jeno also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically.

Jeno exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself.

His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.

Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Jeno are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.

You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.

But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Jeno are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.

Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Jeno to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, ‘Jeno, please touch me!’ in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.

As Jeno’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Jeno.

“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.

His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.

In your mind, you’re chanting ‘higher’ over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.

How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.

“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.

He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Jen—”

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As you lay your head on Jeno’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.

Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.

Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Jeno with Arin. 

You were still unclear about who Arin was to Jeno, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.

They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Jeno’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.

Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not? 

You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.

You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her. 

You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Jeno looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.

As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Jeno’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.

Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.

The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Jeno doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Jeno’s life.

Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.

Jeno’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.

Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”

He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”

──────────────────────────────

authors note thank you for reading :) hope you enjoyed, happy birthday to my love jeno <3 if you liked, pls interact, leave a message, ask, reblog, my dms on here are always open too so speak to me! i love meeting new ppl. there is a part 2 to this, the last part, which will be out asap. it was all initially going to be one fic but it was too long and tumblr didn't allow it so i had to split it up

tag list @apuppygirlfriend @babbymochiiii @actually-vl @mingiandbaconjam @nakamotai

[lovelyhan]

— underlying pretense ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: being two of the most popular streamers across the board, your subscribers often speculate if your constant bickering with wonwoo has some underlying pretense. little did they know, the two of you have everything on display on a single, unsuspecting twitter account. 

word count: 10.3k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers but it's the thought that counts, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, smut

warnings: wonwoo n reader run a shared porn account bc they're filthy like that, alcohol consumption, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: thank you sm for giving the teaser some love! this was just supposed to be pwp filth but...it grew itself a plot :| it also has some valorant jargon here and there but i'll come clean and say i've never played a second of that game my entire life LMAO

this is part of the game over series!

smut tags: sex tapes, unprotected sex, degradation, daddy kink, hard dom wonwoo, choking, overstimulation, aftercare

additional notes for the chat names!

texts: 🐈‍⬛ (ww), 🐈 (reader) discord: W0nwoo (ww), Koyahngi (reader) twitch: everyone_woo (ww), Koyahngi (reader)

taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @seoksoop - @hanieb - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @sysymei

Wonwoo doesn’t make it a habit to watch your streams for two reasons. 

The first is because you’re one of his tightest competitors in the streamer market. Giving you even a single view means that he’s contributing to your rise in popularity, which is very much detrimental to both Wonwoo’s pride and his career. 

Not that someone who only plays boring, open-world games can easily dethrone one of the most renowned competitive players on the platform, but he learned the hard way to never underestimate the charms of a cute girl who knows her way around both technology and the wallets of her subscribers.  

The second reason is…somewhat related to the first.

They’re all hanging out in Seungcheol’s apartment when Vernon opens up a Twitch stream to watch. Wonwoo is in the middle of a petty but intense Fruit Ninja competition with Mingyu on their phones, so he doesn’t get to see which streamer he’s watching. Vernon is the type that likes to give newbies a chance, though, so at that moment, Wonwoo couldn’t really care less.

But when he hears a familiar, high-pitched voice dish out her opening tagline for every stream, even Mingyu notices the way Wonwoo's face scrunches up with distaste.

“Can’t believe you pulled a Koyahngi and Chill while Wonwoo’s in the same room,” Seungcheol laughs when he returns with some beer. “We all know he’s allergic to the sound of her voice.” 

“Hey, I think it’s cute,” Vernon says. “Her outfit is, too. Look.”

Wonwoo, still stewing in his annoyance, doesn't move an inch, while Mingyu scoots closer—glancing over Vernon’s shoulder before letting out a wolf whistle.

“I really don’t see the benefit to playing Stardew Valley in maid-cat girl fusion cosplay, but at least she’s still in theme—oh, shit.”

Seungcheol looks at him once he settles himself on the sofa as well. “What’s wrong?”

“My phone died while I was in the middle of a game,” Mingyu whines. “Wonwoo-hyung, lemme borrow yours. We still haven’t decided who’s buying takeout tonight.”

While Wonwoo would’ve normally responded by scoffing at Mingyu to just borrow a charger from Seungcheol, he completely ignores him—stern eyes glued to his phone as he types away at rapid speed. The moment he hits send, Wonwoo hears a soft chime ring over Koyahngi’s lo-fi background music. 

You pause for a moment from whatever introductory segment you have planned and tell your viewers you’re just going to answer a text. Wonwoo’s friends are none the wiser when he receives a reply the moment you put your phone back down and interact with the chat.

🐈‍⬛: What did I say about wearing that outfit?

🐈: hmm, can’t remember :P

Fucking brat.

“Hyung?” Mingyu calls out after emerging from Seungcheol’s room—presumably to hunt for a charger—when he spots Wonwoo already halfway to the door. “Where are you going?” 

“Friend’s having set-up problems. He texted me asking if I could come over and take a look,” he reasons calmly as he slips his shoes back on. “I’ll head back here once I’m done.” 

Seungcheol pouts at him. “You better! Mingyu over here told us you’ve been busy with some girl, that’s why you couldn't hang out with the boys anymore.”

Vernon glances behind him to shoot Wonwoo an incredulous stare. “Wonwoo-hyung? With a girl? You’re not just making stuff up, right?” 

Mingyu immediately springs into action, blabbering something about how Wonwoo isn’t the heartless prude people thought he was, but Wonwoo really doesn’t give two shits about how his friends perceived his sex life. In fact, he was more interested in what’s playing on the screen of Vernon’s iPad—the view now unobstructed because the youngest has deigned to move away.

Again, the second reason why Wonwoo doesn’t watch your streams is related to the first. 

You’re literally his tightest competitor, but when he sees you all dolled up in your stupid fucking catgirl outfits, he’s suddenly no different from the degenerates vying for your attention in the chat.

And there is nothing else that Wonwoo hates more than being thrown off his game like that.

Funnily enough, he’s reminded of the very thing that started this constant back-and-forth he’s been toeing around with you for a better part of the year when he slips into the driver’s seat of his car. Just before he can drop his phone into one of the cup holders on the middle console, a Twitter notification lights up on screen. 

Wonwoo would’ve thought it was from the account dedicated to interacting with his viewers outside of streams. He’s got a decent number of followers there after all. Except the notifications for his official Twitter account have long been muted because of the massive online traction his tweets gain everyday. 

No, this one’s from another account entirely.

He feels no shame, opening up the most recent video you put up. What he does feel is a sick sort of pride at the sheer amount of engagement that the video received overnight—those faceless Twitter accounts in the replies looking for other desperate fucks to recreate it with. 

This is one of Wonwoo’s favorites. Part of the select few that he actually deigned to keep hidden in the gallery of his phone for…future use. He can barely contain his own heady arousal as he watches the same clip he took with his own camera the previous night. 

Those desperate little noises you made. The way your body writhed while getting a good dicking down. And how you were so fucking eager to slide Wonwoo’s cock back inside your cunt after having him cum all over your tits. 

Seeing you wearing the same goddamn fishnet bodysuit beneath your stupid maid costume on the stream not only made him pop a hard-on in the middle of boys’ night, but also called for drastic interventions, so to speak.

🐈‍⬛: Finish up that stream asap. I’ll be there in 20. 

🐈: fuck you, i just started 5 minutes ago

🐈‍⬛: You know I don’t like it when you talk back, right?

🐈: fine

🐈‍⬛: What?

🐈: …yes, daddy

🐈‍⬛: That’s what I thought.

It all began during a relatively harmless Discord call between their circle friends. 

Hanging out with other streamers isn’t such a foreign concept to Wonwoo. If you live in the same apartment as renowned social butterfly Kim Mingyu, you’re bound to get roped into his goings-on anyway, so Wonwoo relents every time—telling himself there’s no harm in meeting a bunch of new people, as long as they aren’t shitty teammates in-game.

Tonight, though, it’s Vernon who brings a new face to their server, and their Discord tag is something that Wonwoo recognizes almost immediately.

“Hey,” says one Koyahngi#0000, sounding a lot different than Wonwoo remembers. “It’s nice to meet you guys. Vernon said I could come hang out.”

The others in the voice call greet you with varying degrees of enthusiasm—from Jihoon’s mirrored but relaxed ‘hey’, to Soonyoung’s immediate invitation to team up with him on a new FPS game they’re trying out for the night.

As if having the same train of thought as Wonwoo, someone immediately pings him from the private server he shares with Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Vernon—one that Mingyu pathetically named as GAM3 BO1s. Wonwoo is quick to click on it more to eliminate the annoying red ping notification than anything else.

Min6yu: hey isn’t she the new streamer who always gets on wonu-hyung’s nerves

Min6yu: bc her voice is always so…squeaky

Min6yu: @W0nwoo

5coups: hasn’t it occurred to u that maybe that’s just part of the online persona

5coups: i think the reason why wonwoo is annoyed is bc she’s stealing his brand

5coups: you know, as the government-assigned twitch cat

V3rnon: you guys aren’t seriously talking about the person i invited in a server i’m also a part of, right…

5coups: gotta live with it, vern. you know gyu is the town gossip

W0nwoo: can we talk about this later?

W0nwoo: i can’t be the only one hearing soonyoung wailing in the call because we’re taking too long to form teams

The first few rounds progress exactly as Wonwoo envisioned them to be—with you being a constant dead weight to Soonyoung’s team, as Wonwoo’s comes out victorious each time. But it seems that the only person remotely miffed by your presence is Wonwoo, as everyone else in the call would resort to saying things like, that’s alright, you’ll get better with practice or come hang out with us more often so you can get used to it! 

Wonwoo isn’t a fan of the latter, but if the tides of favor are pitted against him, twelve to one, he can’t just overrule the majority like that. 

Of course, he doesn’t have a personal vendetta against newbies. That’s where everyone starts. Back in high school, Wonwoo used to be so bad at aiming his shots in FPS that Mingyu wouldn’t talk to him for an entire day because Wonwoo inadvertently embarrassed him in front of some girl he was trying to get with at the time. 

But there’s just…something about you that ticks him off.

You aren’t even using that pick-me-girl voice you typically do on your streams whenever you’re in a voice call with them, but it’s like you’re playing badly on purpose just so his friends could coo and coddle you. Wonwoo seems to be the only one who can see straight through the farce, and he doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it.

Or maybe he shouldn’t have to deal with it. He can just suck it up whenever one of his friends invites you to play games or fuck around in a Discord call. It’s not like anyone’s holding Wonwoo at gunpoint to interact with you. 

Except one day, Jeonghan thought it would be a wonderful idea to have a quote-unquote friendly Valorant competition on-stream. 

Wonwoo isn’t as opposed to it at first. These little contests have always been a constant since they all started gaming years and years ago. Chan, Minghao, and Jun left the call a bit early for some prior commitments, which means the opposing team would be Jeonghan, Joshua, Woozi, Seokmin, and Seungkwan. Should be easy enough.

But just when Wonwoo thought he’d be playing with his usual Valorant team consisting of Seungcheol, Mingyu, Vernon, and Soonyoung, he’s presented with a bit of a surprise.

“What?” Wonwoo blurts out of instinct once the news that you’re going to be replacing Soonyoung for today’s stream reaches his ears. “What’s wrong with Soonyoung?”

Jeonghan tuts at him in the call. “Now, Wonwoo-ah. Weren’t you the one who suggested switching things up every now and again? You’re the only one who seems miffed at the idea of getting to play alongside our new friend over here.”

“Yeah, and there’s a new banner coming out tonight in this gacha game I’m playing,” Soonyoung quips. “I’ve been sponsored with a fuck ton of cash to use on summons, so I gotta do the rolls live. Actually, I’m gonna head out now. Good luck!”

The moment Soonyoung leaves the call, you’re all-too quick to jump into the spotlight.

“Don’t worry, Wonwoo, I’ll try not to drag you down too much,” you tell him, and Wonwoo startles at the sound of your voice speaking to him directly. “You might have to carry me a little, though~”

He doesn’t like the idea of letting you have the last word, but Wonwoo would rather not antagonize you right before a joint stream with his buddies. Even if you seem to thrive off pushing his buttons whether knowingly or unknowingly, he has enough tact to keep things civil, especially in the middle of a voice call. 

At least, that’s the plan until all of you are several rounds into the first game.

“Do you have some sort of grudge against me?” Wonwoo mutters into his mic as his agent dies for the nth time on stream, while you—having played Sage since the beginning—stand over him without doing a single thing. “You haven’t tried to resurrect me even once.”

The jeering laughter of his other friends on the call inadvertently pisses him off, but the sound of you simpering is what makes his blood pressure rise into dangerous levels. “Oh? Sorry, I kind of forgot how Sage’s abilities work. My bad!” 

“This is our twentieth round,” he reminds you, eye twitching with annoyance. “And you literally just resurrected Cheol, like, a minute ago.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to waste her ult on scrubs who can’t dodge headshots,” Mingyu snorts and Wonwoo has to keep himself from getting up from his chair just to give his best friend in the other room a knuckle sandwich. “I dunno if Wonwoo-hyung’s just terrible today or if Seungkwan actually got better at using sniper guns, but this is the most fun we’ve had in a while.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole,” Wonwoo grunts.

He can hear Seungkwan laugh as well. “It’s a compliment, but that somehow still feels like an insult—whoa! Shua-hyung, Vernon’s planting a spike in—”

Before Seungkwan can even finish the sentence, his agent is swiftly annihilated by yours from behind—making quick work of Joshua, who was hiding behind a cargo holder while you’re at it, too. Wonwoo can hear Jihoon belting out a string of very colorful language that Jeonghan might have to edit out once he cross-posts the stream on YouTube. But with all agents from their team having been eliminated, the twentieth round inevitably goes to Wonwoo’s team. 

Normally, Wonwoo would’ve been glad to celebrate his team’s victory, even if he was hard-carried for an entire round because of some careless choices early on. But the fact that his best friends are all-too enthusiastic with that last play you made did his peace of mind no favors.

“See, we told you you’d get better with practice,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo would honestly like to digress.

You’ve never been bad at FPS. That’s just what you wanted everyone to think, so the moment you finally made groundbreaking plays, all attention would magnetize solely on you. Not that he’s been much of a glutton for the spotlight, though. Wonwoo simply despises people with hidden agendas, no matter how harmless, and the fact that he’s the only one who realizes this makes it even worse.

It doesn’t help that he has a hunch that whatever blatant dislike he has for you, is very much reciprocated on your end.

Your friends assumed the constant bickering you had with Wonwoo during these streams is nothing but good-natured banter at the end of the day.

However, Wonwoo knows much, much better that this is more than just to boost the viewer engagement because of how entertaining it is to watch the two of you argue about the smallest things. (Typical ‘everyone_woo and Koyahngi catfight’, as Soonyoung horrifically dubbed it.) 

There has to be something he can do to make you see yourself out of their circle as soon as possible. Pretending you don’t exist just won’t work anymore because: 1.) Wonwoo is very, very easy to get a rise out of and; 2.) You always seem to go out of your way just to fuck with him every chance you get. 

He needs to get rid of you, stat.

Don’t misunderstand, though. Jeon Wonwoo isn’t some sort of vengeful person who makes it his life’s goal to break you off from their circle entirely. It’s not like he’s actively looking for some dirt on you so he could finally make his idiot friends see the light about your real personality. He kind of just hopes that karma would do its thing without requiring Wonwoo to lift a single finger.

Eventually, that does sort of happen. Just not in the way he ever would’ve expected.

Wonwoo isn’t particularly fond of using Twitter. Aside from the fact that he doesn’t have much to say for his followers to see, the things that appear on his timeline can be a bit…questionable. 

From threads justifying that everyone_woo and min6yu_k have been dating since middle school, here’s why to the blatant Twitter porn that his other, more degenerate streamer friends keep bringing onto his feed with their likes—Wonwoo is yet to have a pleasant experience with the stupid app. He mostly just uses it to post stream schedules ahead of time, and thank the occasional follower when they make nice cat-themed merch for Wonwoo to see.

Wonwoo doesn’t know what compelled him to scroll through the dumpster fire that is his Twitter timeline on this specific day, at this specific hour. When he has nothing better to do, he usually just channels the boredom into working out. 

But today is more of a lazy day, and Wonwoo wants nothing more than to lounge on his gaming chair while waiting for something interesting to pop up. Why he’s expecting such a thing on Twitter is beyond him, but he’s already here anyways, right?

About five minutes through his infinite scrolling, it finally pops up. 

It’s another porn video liked by this guy he collaborated with for a Twitch event once—a rather…promiscuous person named Johnny. Now that he thinks about it, Johnny seems to be the main source of all the NSFW content popping up in Wonwoo’s feed, and he considers soft blocking him for a due timeline cleanse altogether. 

But when Wonwoo finally reads the caption attached to the video…

🔞 • @_asd624915 pov: you’re fucking k0y4hng1 from behind 🤤

He scoffs the moment he finishes reading it, attempting to just block both the person who posted the video and Johnny at the same time. But what catches Wonwoo’s eye is the red neon setting of the scandalous clip. 

Wonwoo doesn’t have to watch your streams to be familiar with the trademark neon red lights you had set up inside your gaming room. The streamer portrait at the bottom corner of your screen always contrasted with the games you played, and it was sort of an eyesore sometimes. 

As the degen who tweeted it described, the girl in the video is being railed from behind while her partner films the entire thing with his phone. Wonwoo couldn’t make out any other details because of the stark, neon red lighting, as well as the shitty 480p quality, so he figures that person just wants to project his sick fantasies about you on some amateur sex tape. 

Thinking about why Johnny would even like this sort of thing gives Wonwoo a headache, so he just quits the application altogether—deciding to finally drag his ass back to the gym so he can just let it pass.

It’s none of his business anyway.

Except it happens again a few days later.

The gaming community isn’t completely full of people with questionable tastes. There are still streamers like Saerom that Wonwoo would actually consider a friend outside of his usual circle. She used to be more popular back when battle royale games were still a hit, but Saerom has since lied low in the gaming scene, and only goes live on Twitch at least once every three months. 

So Wonwoo finds it a bit surprising to see her in the chat for tonight’s stream. 

His newer viewers don’t seem to know her, but some of the veterans on his channel all greet Saerom happily—spamming the chat with the cutest emojis available on stream. He thanks them for their discretion, as he can’t quite scroll back to read her first message. The chat is moving a little too fast, and things are getting a little too heated in the Valorant Icebox map. 

Wonwoo isn’t quite used to queueing solo anymore, so after carrying the rest of his team for thirteen rounds straight, he decides to cut the stream earlier than he usually would. He says goodbye to the viewers, not forgetting to give Saerom a quick special mention before ending the live. 

However, just when he’s about to shut off his computer, he gets a Whisper notification.

SAEROM: hey, you’re friends with koyahngi, right?

everyone_woo: Uh. Sort of. Why?

SAEROM: oh um

SAEROM: i’m sorry if this seems a bit odd…but i’m just concerned about her. 

Saerom’s response makes him arch an eyebrow. 

Did something happen to you? And is it so bad that a semi-retired Twitch streamer is reaching out to him just to check in on you?

everyone_woo: Is something the matter? 

everyone_woo: I haven’t really hung out with them in a while, so I wouldn’t know

SAEROM: oh, i see

SAEROM: it’s just that…there are some weirdos on reddit saying they discovered her sex tapes

SAEROM: i had something similar happen to me in the past even if it's complete bs, so i’m just looking out for her, yknow? 

SAEROM: their reasoning is so stupid too! just because the girl in the video has red mood lights, doesn’t mean it’s koyahngi, right?

Huh. She must be talking about the same video that Johnny unknowingly put on Wonwoo’s timeline a few days ago. He hasn’t really been paying attention to social media platforms that aren’t Twitch and YouTube, so he wasn’t aware that those clips managed to gain some traction in the degen community after all. 

everyone_woo: You know how fans and viewers can be sometimes.

everyone_woo: That’s the reason you laid back for a while, right?

SAEROM: well, yeah but just bc it’s a normal thing, doesn’t mean i have to just sit back and watch it happen again to other people

SAEROM: sigh sorry i’m rambling. all of this just doesn’t sit right w me, and you’re the only friend of hers that i’m still in touch with

SAEROM: you must think it’s weird for me to be fussing abt someone i’ve never spoken to before lol

Wonwoo feels quite the opposite, actually. It’s kind of relieving to know that there are still people like Saerom in this world—caring enough to be frustrated on your behalf even if the two of you have never interacted. 

everyone_woo: Would it make you feel better if I talked to her about it?

SAEROM: omg? you’d really do that?!

SAEROM: seoyeon was completely wrong abt you, you're not a cold-hearted guy at all!

everyone_woo: …So is that a yes or?

SAEROM: ok first of all, i’m not sure if that’s necessary ‘cause idek if she knows me 

SAEROM: you don’t have to Talk to her about it, but at least look after her for me? 

everyone_woo: Ok. I’ll try.

SAEROM: thank you, you’re the best! 

It’s only when he’s halfway through his evening shower that what Wonwoo just offered to do for Saerom finally dawns on him. The moment the realization hits, Wonwoo closes his eyes and let the steady spray from the showerhead prickle his face—breathing deeply through his mouth before...

“Fuck!”

Mingyu asks what the commotion was about when Wonwoo joins him at their two-seater dinner table. He probably heard him not-so gracefully lose it inside the bathroom, but Wonwoo is too pissed at himself to entertain Mingyu’s question, and thankfully, his roommate is sensible enough not to pry.

“Gyu, can I ask something?”

Wonwoo asks this in the middle of cleaning up after dinner. He’s in charge of doing the dishes, since Mingyu was charitable enough to cook dinner for both of them tonight. Mingyu glances at him from the couch, pausing the RPG he fed into the PS5. “Yeah?”

“If you have something important to tell a girl, where would you do it?”

Honestly, Wonwoo thought it would be alright to check up on you through a quick message on Discord. But the nature of your supposed…problem is a bit too sensitive to bring up in a casual conversation. He figures that talking to you in person would be more appropriate. Never mind the fact that every other instance Wonwoo has met you in real life consisted of him completely avoiding you. 

The sound of the water running is the only thing that can be heard throughout their apartment as Mingyu processes Wonwoo’s question with an unreadable look. It’s the first time he’s seen his roommate look so serious about something, so Wonwoo decides to give him some time to answer while he scrubs off some particularly tough fond sticking to the frying pan. 

In reality, Mingyu actually had a last-minute meltdown in his head the moment Wonwoo asked the question. His roommate and best friend for more than ten years never expressed feelings or interest in other people. So the fact that Wonwoo is coming up to him now, asking about where to confess his feelings is kind of a big deal.

(Okay, that’s definitely not what Wonwoo asked, but it might as well be, right?)

So to speak, Mingyu is trying to handle the situation as delicately as possible. He just knows the moment he lets even the tiniest laugh slip, Wonwoo would just scowl at him and drop the matter entirely. Which Mingyu does not want to happen, because surprise, surprise. He’s actually rooting for his normally stoic roommate! 

“Hmm, I think the new samgyeopsal joint downtown serves some mad bulgogi,” Mingyu suggests because barbecue is always a safe choice. Unless the girl Wonwoo’s trying to get with is a vegetarian, but that’s out of the scope of Mingyu’s concern right now.

Wonwoo scrunches his brows together. “Samgyeopsal? Do I really have to eat with her?”

His roommate looks at him like that’s a pivotal piece of information that everyone is aware of. Everyone but Wonwoo, it seems. 

“Duh! It’s to set the mood and stuff,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo is starting to wonder if they’re talking about the same thing. “Anyway, it’s better to invite her out for dinner. Nothing beats grilling meat and sharing a beer after a long day, am I right?”

Mingyu isn’t exactly wrong about that. 

Every time they all went out for samgyeopsal and a few drinks, the atmosphere has always been oddly comfortable. He might not like you as a person all that much, but Wonwoo would want you to be comfortable before he asks about…the thing.

“Fine,” Wonwoo relents just as he’s finished putting the last plate on the drying rack. “Thanks for the input.”

When Wonwoo slowly pads back to his room, he wonders again if he should really exert this much effort for someone he doesn’t even get along with. Sure, he told Saerom that he’d check up on you, but…she insisted that he didn’t necessarily have to talk to you, right? 

All of a sudden, Mingyu starts clapping all the way in the living room—effectively startling Wonwoo from his quiet contemplation. 

“You can do it, hyung,” he says with an earnest smile. “I believe in you!”

Wonwoo simply shoots him a bizarre stare before slamming the door behind him, muttering about how strange Kim Mingyu could be sometimes. 

W0nwoo: Hey. Are you free tomorrow evening? 

Koyahngi: …did you send that to the wrong person or

W0nwoo: No?

Koyahngi: who are you and what did you to do wonwoo

Koyahngi: the Real wonwoo would rather throw an entire match than ask me if i’m free tomorrow evening

Koyahngi: you better start fessing up or i’ll tell mingyu

W0nwoo: Can you stop being weird about it? I just need to tell you something important.

Koyahngi: oh? professing your undying love for me already?

W0nwoo: Just answer the question.

Koyahngi: oooh you like ordering people around huh? but yeah i should be free after my stream.

Koyahngi: where are we going, lover boy?

W0nwoo: New samgyeopsal place downtown. Gyu said you already went with them once.

Koyahngi: okay, sounds like a date to me. 

W0nwoo: Whatever. Just don’t be late.

Of course, you make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late.

Wonwoo is already in the middle of grilling the restaurant’s famed bulgogi when you slide yourself into the seat adjacent to his, grinning so sweetly at him, Wonwoo almost rolls his eyes. 

You aren’t dressed the way you usually are in streams and conventions, having settled with a worn out sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. It’s a far cry from all those complex catgirl outfits that Wonwoo has no idea how you have the patience to put together every stream. The switch up throws him off a bit, but he doesn’t comment on it—content with grilling his meat in silence as you flag down a waiter to get your order in.

“So,” you start, lacing your fingers together, “what does the elusive everyone_woo want from little old me?”

He forgot that if you’re annoying in their damn voice calls, you’re ten times worse when you’re actually in front of him. Wonwoo breathes in the fumes from the grill, willing the succulent aroma of grilling meat to calm him down before he responds.

“You should eat first,” he insists, popping a piece of beef into his mouth. “You might lose your appetite if we talk about it right away.”

You snort. “You make it sound like you know a deep dark secret that can potentially ruin my life.”

…In a way, he does, yeah.

Wonwoo assumed that eating outside without the company of your mutual friends would make the entire ordeal awkward as hell. He’s used to bearing the brunt of uncomfortable silences, but it’s just like you’re built to never feel cumbersome in your life—easily carrying the conversation with someone you supposedly hate, and hates you right back. 

You’re not someone who just talks and talks without discretion either. You know perfectly well when to fill the silence and when to let that silence set. Given that majority of his interactions with you involved his twelve other friends, that’s not something Wonwoo would’ve noticed about you right away. 

Fine. Maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought.

“Oh, right. Do you remember Saerom? The famous battle royale player from a while back?” you suddenly ask, and Wonwoo nearly chokes on his beer. “She popped into my stream earlier. It was fucking crazy! I’ve looked up to her since I was still in college, and then I see her leaving little hearts in the chat.”

As Wonwoo attempts to compose himself, he feels slightly reassured by the thought of Saerom easing herself into your orbit. The fact that you consider her as some sort of idol might just be a bonus, too. He wonders if he still needs to carry out what he’s supposed to do tonight, but then again, he’s already here.

And he’d be lying if he isn’t the tiniest bit concerned about your PR once that Reddit fiasco starts spreading around. 

That evening, he learns that you’re somewhat of a lightweight. Just two beers in, and your face is already red, and you’re laughing way too much in between sentences. Wonwoo has a sinking suspicion that he won’t be able to get his main agenda over with tonight.

He takes it upon himself to help you into the passenger seat of his car, trying to keep your grappling hands off him as you whine about how this is the only opportunity that you’ll get to be in close proximity to Wonwoo before you go back to hating each other again in the morning. Wonwoo can only sigh in complete defeat—wondering why he ever thought doing Saerom this tedious favor was worth it in the first place.

Thankfully, you’re coherent enough to tell him your address, and much to Wonwoo’s chagrin, you live on the other side of the district. It makes him ponder about why you accepted his invitation if the restaurant was completely out of the way, but then again you’ve always been a little eccentric. 

“We’re here,” he says, nudging your knee once he pulls up in front of your apartment complex. “Can you climb up the stairs or am I going to have to be your human crutch again?”

Blinking out the sleepiness swimming in your eyes, you manage to beam at him with a smile that makes your eyes crinkle.

“Your duty is not over~”

You did not just fucking quote Sage in your drunken stupor. 

There are only two things that pisses off Wonwoo these days. The first is Mingyu’s penchant for leaving his dirty clothes in the bathroom after a shower. The second is every single thing about you, which is un-fucking-fortunate for him because he’s forced to play Good Samaritan while you repeatedly wail, “Even death cannot stop me,” and every single one of your favorite agent’s in-game voice lines for no one but him to hear.

Wonwoo distantly wonders, if those weirdos on Twitter and Reddit saw you now, would they still think about you the same way?

When he’s finally in front of your door, you fumble a bit for your keys—doing a pathetic little fist pump once the lock turns on the first try. Wonwoo sighs. 

“Y’know…” You peel yourself away from his grasp before leaning against the doorframe, staring at him in the fluorescent light of the hallway. “Saerom-unnie already mentioned the rumors going around about me after my stream.”

At that moment, Wonwoo feels like an anvil has been dropped into his stomach. He narrows his eyes, wondering if this is some sort of conversational bear trap that he’s in danger of falling for. But the look in your eyes is a little too glazed over to be anything but honest.

“What did she say?” he asks instead.

You hum, chuckling to yourself as you fold your arms in front of your chest. “That you went out of your way to check on me on her behalf. So sweet of you, Wonwoo. Here I thought you were just some asshole who’s never dated a girl in his life. That definitely explains why you’re always so mean to me.”

Wonwoo’s gaze turns stony in a split second—the familiar dregs of irritation prickling the back of his neck. “I’m assuming you’re at least sober enough to walk back inside your place without my help? If that’s the case, I’ll be going—”

“They’re all true, you know.”

Your voice came out so softly, Wonwoo would have missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he is. He scrutinizes you for a moment, deciding whether or not you’re messing with him again, but the way you hold his gaze so confidently tells him it’s the latter.

“Of course, I didn’t tell that to Saerom-unnie,” you sigh, carding your fingers through your hair. “But yep. The girl in the video that a bunch of creeps are saying resembles me? That’s actually me.”

The clip in question replays in the forefront of Wonwoo’s mind like he didn’t spend days forgetting about it altogether. He shakes his head when he catches himself thinking about it a little too long. 

“Okay.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Why are you telling me then?”

You shrug. “Beats me.”

“You’re being very strange tonight, you know?”

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle, leaning your head back while exposing your neck in a way that’s a bit too sensual to be normal. “Maybe it’s because I know the truth’s safe in your hands. Kinda weird if you think about it, though—trusting the guy who hates your guts with a dirty little secret that could end your entire career.”

If the context was any more different, Wonwoo would’ve agreed. This is what he’s been waiting for, right? To get enough dirt on you so he can convince his friends to just kick you out of your little circle altogether. 

But as insufferable as you might be, Wonwoo isn’t such a terrible person that he’ll throw you to the wolves without an ounce of remorse. He’s seen what scandals like this have done to the careers of old streamer friends he no longer has contact with. Even if you’re purposely living your life on the literal edge, he would never consider deliberately ruining it. 

He tells himself that the only reason he feels that way is because he refuses to get his hands dirty from…whatever you’ve got going on for yourself. Not because of outright concern for you. Definitely not.

“If you don’t have anything else to say to me,” Wonwoo starts, trying not to think about the flush on your cheeks while you’re slumped against the doorframe, “I’m heading back home.”

He turns around with full intention of leaving without hearing your answer. However, you completely anticipated his next move, immediately snapping into motion to grab Wonwoo’s wrist before he could even take a single step away. He grunts with surprise when you tug him closer—enough that your chests are flush against each other.

“I just remembered the other reason why I decided to tell you,” you giggle, running a finger along the rim of his glasses. “My old dom quit on me, so I need to bring in someone new to make more content with.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen by the second as the implications of your words start to connect in his head. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “No need to act so prissy with me, Wonwoo. I make sex tapes on the side for the entire world to see. As of the moment, there’s no one to have sex with. You’re a semi-attractive guy that’s pressed up against me right now, and I’m pretty sure fucking around with you wouldn’t be too—”

“Stop. Holy shit. Stop talking,” Wonwoo rasps. He physically has to push you away so he can hear the sound of himself talking over the thundering of his heart.

You pout at him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t once thought about fucking me. I’m pretty sure your other friends have entertained the idea at least once.”

“Can you shut up for one fucking second?” 

That seems to do the trick. In fact, Wonwoo doesn’t miss the dazed yet pleased look in your eyes the moment he says the words with a bit more authority that he meant to channel into his voice.

Oh, you are so fucking sick.

“Look,” he sighs in between, dragging a palm over his face out of perplexion. “This probably isn’t a conversation we should be having in the hallway of your apartment complex. If your neighbors overhear, what then?”

“Hmph. You think I’ll let myself live in a place with paper thin walls? The soundproofing here is great, mind you. The couple that lives a few units over might be having the wildest sex imaginable and we’re none the wiser!”

“That’s not the fucking point,” Wonwoo growls. “You’ve obviously had too many to drink tonight, and you’re spilling all your life’s secrets willy-nilly. Don’t proposition me like that again when you’re not sober enough to deal with the consequences after.”

You simper, hands gliding to the lapels of his jacket as you tug him back. He has to physically bite the inside of his cheek when those fingers glide across the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt, grazing across every ridge of his muscled chest.

“Oh? Those consequences you speak of sound a bit too tempting to ignore.” 

Wonwoo looks at the pristine ceiling of the fourth floor hallway, as if praying for some sort of deliverance.

“Go home and get some sleep. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, testing the waters of…whatever the fuck this is, and Wonwoo finds relief in the fact that you actually do as he says, stepping away from him just like he ordered.

“Not even a good night kiss?” you ask—the teasing lilt in your voice yet to fade. 

Mustering all the self-restraint left in his body, he turns on his heel and walks away without another word.

Wonwoo doesn’t hear from you for a few days after that.

He convinced himself that the conversation he had with you just outside your apartment was nothing but a fever dream. Though he only had one glass of beer, as he’s supposed to drive home, he can’t really underestimate the effects of alcohol. 

But just when he thought his life had finally resumed his preferred cadence of normalcy, another unexpected visitor hops onto his latest stream—sending the chat into a complete frenzy.

Unlike the mixed reactions that Saerom’s arrival last week incurred, seeing the renowned Twitch streamer Koyahngi leaving cat emojis in Wonwoo’s stream chat is enough to drive his entire viewerbase up a wall. 

Thankfully, he isn’t playing a game that requires 200% of his utmost concentration—having given the open-world gacha game that Soonyoung keeps begging them to play a chance—so Wonwoo gets to peer over at the messages flooding across one side of his screen. One in particular catches his attention: why are a bunch of hot girls dropping by wonwoo’s stream these days? 

Wonwoo ultimately decides to brush them all off for now.

However, unlike Saerom who just observed his stream quietly after making her presence known, you constantly made comments about his overworld progress—saying that he’s building this character wrong, and that there’s an easier way to go around the obstacles; he just needs to use his head. Wonwoo forgot that this is a game that you also played frequently, and having to be on the receiving end of all your unsolicited advice made him want to end the stream altogether.

Except he can’t dish out his snarky rebuttals like he typically would on their friendly Discord calls because, wow, his viewers really were eating this shit up. Since the two of you typically argued on your friends’ streams and not his, Wonwoo hasn’t seen the gravity of these splintered interactions until now.

His eyes parse through the fast-paced comments flying into the chat, catching on a few questionable ones, like someone begging for the TikTok fans to make edits, the fanfic writers to create stories about the greatest enemies-to-lovers couple in Twitch history, and so on. 

Wonwoo has been making his livelihood off the internet for years, but he still can’t get used to how strangely people behave sometimes.

He half-expects you to continue pestering him even after he finishes up with the stream, but his Discord notifs remain oddly silent, and Wonwoo decides to just hit the gym when Mingyu asks if he wants to come.

After he’s satisfied with today’s session, Wonwoo waits for Mingyu by the locker room, as his roommate is still getting their usual trainer to spot him while he does his bench presses. But when he fishes his phone out of his gym bag, he’s surprised to see a couple of messages from yours truly.

Koyahngi: sooo are you free tonight?

Koyahngi: i haven’t posted anything in a while, my followers must miss me

Wonwoo scowls at his phone once he reads the contents of your messages—earning himself a wary stare from this one person that passed him in the hall. Clearing his throat, he schools his expression into complete neutrality as he types in a response.

W0nwoo: Why do I have to get roped into this again? Can’t you just make your own content by yourself? 

Koyahngi: they’re more into seeing the actual thing that just me playing with myself

Koyahngi: that, and i’m kind of really horny these days

W0nwoo: …So this is your idea of a booty call?

Koyahngi: pretty much, yeah.

“Wonwoo-hyung, you wanna get some chicken before we head home?” he hears Mingyu call out at the other end of the hall.

He has half the mind to tell him that stuffing his face with fried food right after working out is counterproductive as hell, but then again, it’s not like Wonwoo can reprimand him when he won’t even be there to begin with.

“I…actually have other plans.”

…

What the fuck is he doing here, honestly?

It’s not like Wonwoo doesn’t have any sort of sex drive or anything. In fact, the night after he dropped you off at your apartment, he might’ve had to…relieve himself during a quick shower before bed. Not that he’d ever admit to ever doing it. Letting off some steam every now and again is understandable though. 

But this? Sitting at the foot of your bed as you got ready for him to fuck you silly?

This is a different breed of foolishness.

He seriously considers sneaking out of your apartment before you can emerge from the en-suite. Wonwoo can just shoot you a quick message, saying that this was all a mistake, and that he hopes you can find a more suitable partner to fuck around with. Because…he doesn’t just do these kinds of things with other people. He wouldn’t go as far as calling himself a romantic, but casual sex has never really interested him—insisting that there are other things in life to focus his energy on.

However, you come out of the bathroom before he can even hope to make up his mind, a cute robe patterned with pink kittens hiding your body from view. You muster up a kind smile as Wonwoo swallows thickly.

Yep. No backing out now.

“You look so tense for someone who just came from the gym,” you chuckle, making a beeline for your desk to grab your phone. “Aren’t work outs supposed to be a form of stress relief or something?”

“They are, but a certain someone is stressing me out again.”

“Hm. I wonder who?”

A few moments later, the mood lights hooked up to the ceiling start to glow, and you pad over to flip off the light switch. Almost immediately, the room is plunged into near-darkness, and Wonwoo feels himself take in a sharp breath when he sees how the red lighting paints your objectively cute robe in a more…lascivious light. 

“So how do you wanna do this?” you ask before finally making your way towards the bed—planting a knee on either side of Wonwoo’s hips before hoisting yourself up to sit on his lap. He doesn’t dare to move an inch. 

“Why are you asking me? Aren’t you going to direct how your own content plays out?” he questions gruffly, keeping his palms firmly at his sides despite the sudden compulsion to place them on your hips. 

You chuckle as you make a show of biting your bottom lip—one finger trailing down the dri-fit shirt that Wonwoo changed into after showering at the gym. “I don’t think you understood what I was telling you the other night. You’re my dom, Wonwoo. You get to call the shots, not me.”

He closes his eyes with a withering sigh, wondering what sort of atrocities he’s committed in a past life to warrant having to end up in this situation.

“Don’t we have to get this on film? Can’t exactly hold a phone when you’re all over me like this.”

A soft giggle reverberates in your chest before you roll your hips, earning an exasperated groan from the man below you. This time, Wonwoo can’t contain the need to touch you, and his hands migrate to your thighs as he presses his hips further against yours—eyes never straying too far from your own. 

“You don’t have to think about that just yet,” you murmur, trailing your lips along the cut of his jaw. “Let’s get a feel of each other first. I’ll let you know what I like, and you let me know what you like, yeah?”

It gives him so much vertigo, seeing you like this under the same red lights he’s always found disparaging to catch a glimpse of in your streams. Wonwoo is tethering dangerously across the tightrope of his self-control, but when you lace your fingers around his nape to press your foreheads together, Wonwoo realizes the effort is completely futile.

“What do you say, daddy?” 

He doesn’t have a daddy kink. He knows he doesn’t. He’s always found it weird how others got off at the prospect of calling their sexual partners such a thing. 

So why the hell is Wonwoo crushing your lips together like he’ll die if he doesn’t kiss you right this second? Why are his fingers gripping the swell of your ass as tightly as they are—grinding you down on his hardening length with a growl resonating deep in his chest? And why does he feel a rush of pride surge straight into his skull when you whimper against his mouth?

As he busies himself with devouring your lips, you shrug off the sleeves of your robe, making Wonwoo peel himself away for a second to get a glimpse of what you’ve been hiding underneath. When he’s rewarded with the spill of your bare breasts, he takes a sharp breath through gritted teeth—rolling his hips upward at the thought that you’ve chosen to forego underwear altogether.

“What’s your safeword?” he rasps, mouth hovering above your chest before he goes in for the kill, nipping and biting at your skin with the intention for it to hurt. A sick sense of satisfaction ripples in his chest when you moan out his name in response, and Wonwoo all but secures a strong arm around your waist to keep you from falling off.

“Red,” you mewl, all while you discard your robe altogether, rutting your bare cunt against his middle. 

He sighs, reaching between your thighs to get a feel of just how ready you are for him. Wonwoo nearly bites down harshly when he finds you wet and wanting—your essence already trickling out of your needy hole and onto his sweats.

“Fuck,” he groans, lathering his free hand in your slick. “So fucking wet for me already. Did you touch yourself before I got here?” 

“Mmmm,” you purr, taking his bottom lip between your teeth. “Fucked myself with a little toy thinking it was you.”

You assumed your eagerness to finally lie with the guy you’ve been trying to get with for months might spur him further into action. But something unspeakable shifts in the air and for a moment, Wonwoo is so silent, you figure he didn’t hear what you just said. Just when you’re about to call out his name, however, Wonwoo quickly maneuvers you off his lap, shoving you back onto the mattress with little heed for your comfort. 

At first, you thought he was about to manhandle you into oblivion, but when the searing warmth of his body departs from yours, you look up at him with an inquisitive scowl.

“Sounds to me like you don’t need my cock after all,” he says coolly, yet fails to mask the anger sparking in his dark eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re obviously content with using a toy instead, right?”

“Wonwoo,” you groan, frustrated that he’s playing games now when you’re finally so goddamn close to what you’ve been hoping to happen for months. “Can you not go too deep into the domspace because I really, really need you to rail me like, right fucking now.” 

“Shut up,” he scoffs before crossing his arms together. If it weren’t for the outline of his cock bulging through his sweats, you would’ve thought he was genuinely displeased with you. “Cocksluts like you don’t have the right to make demands.” 

Fuck. 

You only had a hunch back then, but Jeon Wonwoo might just be the dom of your dreams.

Instead of playing the brat like you always do, you let out a helpless whimper, sliding down to the floor before crawling to Wonwoo’s feet. He watches your movements with an impassive stare, looking so immovable even as you prop yourself up on your knees to nuzzle his clothed cock.

“Then what can I do for you, daddy?” you ask, fingers catching purchase on the strong flesh of his thighs. The heady scent of musk and detergent pervades your senses, and it takes every ounce of patience for you to keep yourself from pulling his sweatpants down and take him into your mouth. “You’re not just going to stare at me all night while you’re all pent up like this, right?”

Whatever semblance of playfulness you deigned to parade around Wonwoo is quickly snuffed out when he roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his ticked off gaze.

“I don’t think you understood your own words when you said I’m the one calling the shots here,” he growls, and you can feel another gush of slick seeping between your thighs. “You’re not allowed to talk until I say so. Keep those cheeky fucking comments to yourself or I’ll leave you high and dry. Got that?”

Oh my god, he’s fucking perfect.

When Wonwoo finally gets to fuck the frustration out of his system, he lies next to you on the sheets—waiting for you to swim out of that post-orgasmic high as he inspects the damage he’s done to your body.

It’s been a while since he’s gone out of his way to hook up with someone, so he isn’t surprised to see the plethora of love bites and bruises he ended up scattering across your skin. Wonwoo feels particularly pleased with himself when he sees the deep rise and fall of your chest—the bloom of hickeys you’ve amassed on your breasts still recognizable even under the deep red lights. 

“I think I might be in love with you,” you sigh wistfully once you finally come to your senses. Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “I haven’t come that hard in months, Jesus.”

“Compliment me any more and it’ll get to my head,” he says before adding—much more sincerely than he usually sounds— “Are you okay?”

Turning around to face him, you pull him down for another kiss. Wonwoo grunts against your lips but snakes a hand around your waist anyways. 

“I think you’re just about ready to film us now,” you whisper into the kiss, licking into his mouth in a way that’s stoking the ebbing flames of his arousal back to life. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your request but moves to the nightstand where he unceremoniously discarded his phone before fucking you stupid. There are a couple of texts and other Discord notifications on screen that he completely ignores in favor of handing it to you unlocked. 

You adjust your position on the mattress, easing your legs apart with the silent invitation for Wonwoo to come between them again. He can hardly believe that you’re still looking at him with the same bedroom eyes that you’ve been giving him since the night began. Just how much cock can you take, really?

“The mood lights shouldn’t be too dark, so don’t use flash,” you instruct him, handing Wonwoo his phone back with the Camera app already up and running. “Other than that, you’re free to do whatever you want to me, daddy.”

Wonwoo heaves yet another internal sigh as he positions himself between your legs, rubbing his half-hard cock along your ruined cunt. With a bated breath, he hits the Record button.

He hasn’t watched a lot of Twitter porn for a dozen reasons, but Wonwoo figures he shouldn’t get your face in the frame. Now that he’s finally in the shoes of whoever was fucking you from behind in the first clip he saw, he realizes it’s a little hard to keep filming this debauchery while subsequently trying not to lose his mind from how good your pussy feels. And he isn’t even inside you yet. Fuck.

The sensual way you move your body to meet his shallow thrusts makes him want to just chuck his phone back on the nightstand and ravish you all over again. But Wonwoo doesn’t do that. He simply continues with his ministrations, relishing in the cock-drunk look in your eyes once you reach out to pump his length in your smaller hand. 

You don’t talk; neither does he. All that matters is the sensation of his cockhead sliding across your wet pussy lips while you jacked him off with a hazed out look in your eyes. 

A possessive part of him takes great pride in knowing he’s the one making you feel like this; that he’s the reason behind that depraved expression you’re wearing. The moment you guide Wonwoo’s cock back into your tight channel, he uses his free hand to clamp his strong fingers around your throat—pressing down with just enough pressure to make you feel lightheaded.

The squelch of your cunt is sickeningly sweet, especially knowing that you still have his load inside you. Wonwoo is a bit too eager as he fucks his spend even deeper into your abused cunt, all while maintaining a steady grip on his phone as he captures all this on camera. He’s ruined you so badly that each time he slides himself to the hilt, he can see the creamy ring of your mixed juices at the base of his cock.  

You’re driving him so fucking crazy, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

After a few experimental thrusts, Wonwoo picks up the pace—the grip he has on your throat tightening ever-so slightly. Just enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Fuck it. 

He tosses his phone somewhere on the bed before moving to hook your legs over his shoulders. You shoot Wonwoo a bewildered look, a question already resting on your tongue, but the words are ground to dust when he pushes himself back into your sopping heat—deep enough that you can feel the fat head of his cock graze your cervix. 

“Fuck, daddy!” you wail, completely helpless as Wonwoo pounds into you with unforgiving vigor. “So good… So fucking good.”

If you uttered those words the first time he fucked you earlier, he would’ve choked you out for going against his ‘don’t speak unless I say so’ rule. But Wonwoo is just so obsessed with the tight fit of your cunt fluttering around his cock that he can’t even find the headspace to be mad about your disobedience. 

“You’re such a greedy fucking slut,” he growls, nipping the lobe of your ear. “Can’t get enough of this cock? You had to come onto me and let me ruin you twice in a single night?” 

The only response you can come up with is a high-pitched keen of his name as Wonwoo feels your cunt pulsate around him, squeezing his cock so fucking tight as you lose yourself to your nth orgasm. He hisses as he pulls himself out of the velvet heat of your pussy, jerking himself a few times before he’s painting your tits with white ribbons of cum. 

Wonwoo delights himself with the sight of his emission shining atop the marks he’s left on your body, and even entertains the thought that he won’t ever mind seeing such a sight again.

It takes about thirty minutes for you and Wonwoo to clean up—at his insistence, of course. After all, if he’s going to break you apart, it’s only fair for him to put you back together once all’s said and done. 

For some reason though, you haven’t stopped looking at him weirdly as he runs a clean washcloth all over your spent body. Like the concept of aftercare is something completely foreign to you. But instead of bringing it up, you ask Wonwoo if you can borrow his phone again, and all he gives you is a small grunt of affirmation before padding over to the en-suite to get himself cleaned.

“You didn’t stop recording when you tossed it away?” He hears you laugh from the bedroom. “Oh my god…”

He didn’t…? Oh, well. He was too goddamn horny to notice anyway.

Wonwoo gets dressed while you continue tinkering with the video he took on his phone—airdropping it to yours so you could do a couple of changes. Turns out, there are a couple of instances where your face got caught in the frame, and you’re going to have to crop it and trim out the part where you’re audibly moaning each other’s names if you want to keep committing these acts of deviance on the side. 

“Gotta say though, you’re a natural at getting my good angles,” you say, sounding completely pleased. “I wouldn’t mind having you over again~” 

“Don’t push your luck.” He scoffs as he fastens the string of his sweats and puts his glasses back on. 

But the two of you know he’ll be back either way.

When Wonwoo gets back to the apartment, he finds Mingyu lounging in front of the TV despite it being almost three in the morning. Something about marathoning a new drama that Wonwoo might’ve heard in passing. As exhausted as he is, he decides not to reprimand Mingyu altogether and marches straight to his room.

But just as he’s about to collapse straight into bed, his phone buzzes with another notification that makes him click his tongue in annoyance. It’s been going off non-stop since he left your place, but he didn’t pay it much mind since he assumed they were all Twitch and Discord notifs. Some of his friends did like pinging him unnecessarily even in the dead of night.

Although when Wonwoo realizes they’re Twitter notifications, he pauses.

He muted the notifs on his Twitter account ages ago. 

Confused, he takes off his glasses and places them on the nightstand, eyes narrowed when he realizes a new account has been logged onto his phone. An account that just happened to tweet the same video he just took on his phone not two hours earlier. 

🐈 • @ goodcat_badcat miss me? 💦

As fate might have it, a text notification hovers on top of his screen—with a contact name he doesn’t remember putting himself, but recognizes all the same. 

🐈: hope you enjoyed the show, daddy <3

As he reads through the text, he wonders distantly when this will all come back to bite him in the ass.

But then again, Wonwoo really couldn’t care less.

part one - part two - part three - part four

end notes: hehe i really enjoyed writing this, so i hope you enjoyed reading as well! this is actually slated to have a second part sometime in the future, but for now, i think it'll do well as a standalone. i'll let wonwoo and reader fool around with their spicy sex life first before giving them ~feelings~ to worry about ^__^

this is part of the game over series!

[sundrop-writes]

Loverboy

Bratty!Virgin!Spencer Reid x (Dom)Fem!Reader

Summary:

You try your best to make Spencer’s first time a good one. Spencer can’t hold himself back, and makes it an incredibly memorable night for the both of you.

Bratty!Virgin!Spencer Reid x (Dom)Fem!Reader. Co-Workers with Benefits. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 3,100

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: mainly smut/pwp;generally under-negotiated kink; mentions of the social constructs around virginity and the social pressures that men feel based around sex; this is Spencer’s first time having sex and the reader is a lot more experienced; this is not an explicit or pre-planed dom/sub relationship, but there is dom/sub undertones to their interactions; Spencer is more submissive (and bratty/defiant - before becoming compliant) and the reader is more dominant/leading; the reader calls Spencer ‘baby’ and 'brat’; she reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; penetrative sex/penis in vagina sex; mentions of fingering (does not take place during the fic); “just the tip”; unprotected sex - the reader and Spencer agreed to use a condom beforehand but Spencer pushes in without one (the reader secretly loves it, but doesn’t want to tell Spencer because she doesn’t want to feed into his entitled brat attitude and this could be considered dubious consent because he broke her consent regarding using contraception); spanking - the reader spanks Spencer (very mild pain kink); something that could be considered 'premature ejaculation’ (but imo it’s never premature, it’s right on time); creampie kink - they both enjoy Spencer cumming inside of her; mentions of Spencer crying (from overwhelming sensations, not sadness or humiliation); overstimulation (toward Spencer); Spencer fucking into his own cum; I believe that is everything.

A/N: Originally, I had this idea when I was thinking about Lessons For A Genius, but I realized that it didn’t quite fit the tone of that fic, so I decided to write it separately. I hope all you Subby Spencer lovers enjoy it! (Also can you tell that 'just the tip’ is my new fav trope? lmao)

...

“You ready, baby?” You cooed, gently running your hands through Spencer’s hair.

You tried to keep that same soothing, sweet voice that you had been using with him all night, trying your best to keep his nerves at bay. You knew that this was an uneasy time for him - between the social pressure of being a man who had never had sex with a woman before and wanting to ‘impress’ you and his general shyness around other people. You just wanted him to be comfortable and at ease so that he could enjoy himself. Which, of course, was generally the point of having sex. 

When Spencer had asked you to take his virginity, you felt incredibly honored. He was handsome, and despite him being ‘socially awkward’, he was charming. He had his own unique way of flirting, and he did have his choice of beautiful women that he could have fucked instead of you. There had been plenty of gorgeous women from his past, so you were surprised that he was even still a virgin in the first place. 

But when he had been explaining it to you, he had mentioned that the ‘social awkwardness’ had played a big role. The nerves. He had expected that one night, he would simply kiss a woman that he was on a date with, and things would just naturally ‘go from there’. But it never happened like that. He never had that movie romance moment where it fell into place. So instead, he had asked you. 

He told you that he found you intensely attractive, and - the part he hadn’t told you - he had been fantasizing about this for a while. He found everything about you utterly perfect. From the way your clothes hugged your curves to the way you looked dangerous suspects in the eyes and screamed at them without flinching. 

(And stowed away as a deep, dark secret, he had imagined himself in that position many times - handcuffed to an interrogation table, screamed at by you until he was begging for mercy.) (But again, that wasn’t information he was going to just volunteer to give up willingly.) 

So when Spencer laid it all out for you, fidgeting nervously and explaining that he finally wanted to know what sex felt like - you couldn’t deny him. He was too sweet, and too pretty, of course you couldn’t deny him. 

Even though it was something the two of you planned, and you would have simply invited him over to your place for the night, he insisted upon a date night out - taking you to a lavish restaurant first. He said that he wanted to act like a gentleman before taking you to bed. And it was a lovely evening, so there were no complaints on your part. 

You had taken him back to your place, and you had done your best to make him comfortable through the kissing, the groping, and showing him how to ‘satisfy’ you (again, upon his gentlemanly insistence). You were plenty turned on just by being with him, but you quickly found out that he was a swift learner with more than just books and very good with his fingers. 

Now, it was time for the ‘main event’ - at least, the part that would make him feel less much like a virgin, marking that big milestone for him. 

To give him control and make him feel more comfortable, you were on your back with your head on the pillows and he was sitting on his knees between your spread thighs. He had his body pressed pretty much flush against your naked one, savoring the feeling of your warmth. He was almost completely naked himself - save for his very Reid white briefs, barely containing his seemingly very long, hard cock. You hadn’t gotten a good look at it yet - just the outline of it through his underwear, and even tented, it seemed very impressive. 

You really wondered how no one else had snatched him up as a partner yet. 

He was hiding his face in your neck out of shyness. His nervous streak was oddly sweet, but it was something you had been trying to coax out of him all night. Even if you found it entirely adorable and endearing. 

“‘m ready.” He hummed into the skin of your neck. 

This sent pleasant vibrations through you, making you moan lightly as well. You rubbed your hands across the broad of his back, continuing to soothe him, trying to get his stiff muscles to relax. 

“Okay, baby.” You told him. “I’m gonna take these off now, is that okay?” You posed, reaching down to the waistband of his underwear. 

He nodded into your neck, but you weren’t entirely satisfied with that. 

“Please use your words.” You told him. 

It was only after the sentence left your mouth that you realized how ‘scolding’ it sounded. How condescending. 

Oddly enough, it was that tone of voice that made Spencer’s cock jolt, and made him so buttery and compliant in seconds. 

“You - you can take them off.” He muttered quietly. 

“Good.” You praised him, your voice short and firm. 

You felt yourself very specifically holding back from saying ‘good boy’ in response. 

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and got them down over his ass. The material did get slightly hooked up in the length of his cock, and you tried to take a peek between your two bodies to get a good look at his now exposed dick. But you couldn’t see around him with the way he had his face tucked into your neck. Spencer untangled himself and clumsily got the underwear down over his knees and eventually kicked them off. 

He moaned when he jostled slightly and felt his cock nudge up against the wet heat of your pussy. You let out a hot breath at the feeling, tightly locking your hips in order to keep yourself from bucking forward and rubbing yourself across his cock. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with new sensations. And you didn’t need to tempt yourself with the idea of pushing him over onto his back, shoving his cock inside of you and riding him raw like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure. 

This was supposed to be about making his first time good - not about chasing your own selfish desires. 

Feeling curiosity flood him, Spencer finally pulled away from his safe haven tucked beside your head to prop himself up and get a better look. He put a hand on each side of your shoulders, looking down the length of your body to stare at the impressive heat nuzzling up against his cock between your thighs. 

He had become well acquainted with your pussy when he had fingered you, and he already knew what a gorgeous, warm, wet thing it was. But seeing your throbbing wetness right up against his cock, getting to see that natural gloss so carelessly slicking him up - it made him truly realize the wicked reality that he was going to slide his cock into that wet heat. 

He was going to fuck you. 

It was a thought that made his head spin, quite literally made him dizzy with pleasure. He felt temptation so ripe in his veins as he got up on his knees a bit more and the bright pink head of his cock naturally found your entrance, naturally kissing right up against it. He let out a moan as that heat fanned out over his cock, begging to swallow him up. He wanted to be swallowed up by you, wanted to be consumed whole. He bit his lip, knowing it would be wrong to do it without- 

“Hold on, baby, we need a condom.” You told him, trying your best to keep a firm, steady voice as you were overwhelmed with sharp jolts of pleasure.

Feeling the thickness of his cock against you - feeling him right there - it was almost too much for you. You were so tempted to roll your hips up and simply take him inside of you. You were so tempted to have him fuck you raw. 

But it was not what the two of you had agreed upon beforehand. You had to be the logical one - you had to enforce the rules. 

While you reached off to the side, to the box of condoms you had waiting on the nightstand, Spencer continued to stare at your glistening cunt with pure concentration knit over his features. 

He was biting his lip with a near bruising hard quality, his brows knit so tight that he likely could have held a quarter between them. All of it was just so tempting. Feeling the heat coming off you; so different from his hand, so different from humping into his bed desperately at night, so lively, so perfect. The feeling of your perfect wetness coating the tip of his cock. 

Something in his mind was screaming at him:

Just the tip. Just the tip. 

He could press the tip of his cock into you without a condom, just for a moment, and it would be fine. He would know what your pussy felt like on his cock without a condom. And then he would pull it out again and put the condom on and everything would be fine. 

Technically, he wasn’t breaking any rules. 

He heard the foil wrapper crinkling as you tore it apart with your teeth and his need grew even more urgent under his skin. 

Before he even fully made the decision, his hips were surging forward, and he was pushing his cock into you. He let out a throaty whimper as he felt more of that perfect heat and wetness enveloping his cock. He couldn’t have stopped at the tip if he wanted to - he likely couldn’t have stopped the movement of his hips even if someone had a gun to his head. 

He kept pushing more and more of his length inside of you with a heaving, broken groan as he fully sheathed his cock inside of you for the first time. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he felt your raw, wet cunt around him - no barriers, no asides. Just the perfect, unadulterated you. 

“Oh god.” Spencer moaned, bowing his head to rest in your neck again as he began to pant furiously. He was trying to keep himself from fucking into you like an animal mindlessly, just chasing his release. He was trying to simply enjoy the hot, wet, tight vice as it pulsed around his hard cock. 

“Spencer!” You scolded him harshly once again. “What the fuck?!” 

Your pussy throbbed with the fullness, only now truly feeling how big he was, and fuck - he was big. He was stretching your pussy out so good, making you clench around him desperately, unconsciously trying to memorize every single ridge and vein that you could feel. Because of course, without a condom, you could feel every single detail of him, including the underside of his cockhead bumping up against one of those incredible spots inside of you that was almost never touched by any other man. 

As much as you love it, this was bad. You had agreed to use a condom. 

You dropped the condom beside your head out of shock. This had been the last thing you had ever expected him to do. Spencer: someone who had been so timid all night. Someone who had asked permission to touch your breasts just a few hours ago. That very same someone had just pushed into you without a condom, without even asking permission. 

He had somehow morphed into a greedy brat in the span of a few minutes. And as much as that turned you on, you couldn’t encourage that kind of behavior in him, because it would turn him into an entitled monster. Every single instinct inside of you told you that you had to punish him for this, rather than spoiling him. 

He had to learn how to behave. 

“Spencer, you-!” You continued to use that sharp scolding voice, and unconsciously, it only turned him on more. 

His hips flexed forward, trying to push impossibly deeper into you, and you bit your lip, forcibly holding in a moan. 

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered into your neck, his voice entirely pathetic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh-” 

He felt your cunt clench around him, you becoming so turned on by his whimpers of ‘I’m sorry’. You couldn’t help but to love his pathetic sweet compliance. But then, feeling that wet heat tighten around him even more, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He pulled his hips back and fucked forward once, and then - that animal thing inside of him took over. And he began fucking you at an even pace, chasing his orgasm inside of you as though you were nothing more than a hot, wet hole for him to fuck. 

“Spencer!” You scolded in a sharp gasp, trying your hardest not to show a pleasurably reaction toward his bratty entitlement and ruthless possession of your body - something he had not yet earned. Not by far. 

“Oh, I’m not sorry!” He moaned louder, lifting his head from your shoulder to give you an utterly filthy grin.

He couldn’t bring himself to be sorry anymore. Not when it felt this good. 

It was one of the most wicked things he had ever done in your presence, and it made you very tempted to reach up and slap him across the face - wanting to slap that grin right off him. You just barely held yourself back from doing so. 

He felt like he had won. At this point, he didn’t even care if it was at your expense. Right now, he was being so truly selfish. 

He was entirely unapologetic in his movements, pounding away at your pussy like it was his own personal toy. He fucked like an entitled boy, like someone with absolutely no regard for his partner’s pleasure - and oddly enough, that only turned you on more. 

It was a dizzying feeling that was only increased by how natural he seemed to be, especially for a first-timer. He was easily keeping up the hard pace, driven only by his pure, selfish need and chasing the heat of your pussy around him, never wanting it to end. 

He hammered his hips into you evenly, becoming sloppy at points, clearly only chasing his own pleasure in a way that drove all of your instincts insane. He absolutely wasn’t performing - he wasn’t fucking you with purpose. He wasn’t trying to make you cum. He was using your body for his own selfish pleasure. He just wanted to get his dick wet like the selfish boy he was. 

There was only one thought on your mind. 

“Filthy brat!” You spat out. 

Spencer couldn’t care less if that was good or bad, even though you hurled it out beside his ear like a cruel insult. He didn’t care if it was an insult - he was still getting to fuck your perfect pussy, he was still feeling you clenching around him as you huffed in his ear. 

All he knew for certain was that you were dripping wetness around him, leaking down over his balls. You were a clenching heat that made him feel like his cock was finally home and he never wanted to leave it. He let out a victorious giggle in between moans as he continued to fuck you. Although you felt an orgasm building in your belly, you felt the overwhelming need to put him in his place. 

You weren’t going to let him get away with this behavior, even if he did have a magnificent cock.

“Dammit, Spencer!” You cursed, bitter annoyance still ripe on your lips. 

Before you could even think too much about it, you reached around his body and sharply spanked the broad of his bare ass cheek. You were desperate to find something that would get him back under your control. It wasn’t even your most powerful swat, seeing as you couldn’t get much heft from the angle of being below him. 

But the hit left a mild sting on your fingers, and caused a nice smack of skin on skin in the room. 

In a second, the sting of the hit across his ass had his hips stuttering in inconsistent waves as he flooded your insides with hot cum. 

You felt a slight wave of disappointment as your orgasm dulled inside your belly, his cock stuttering to a stop and unable to keep up the pace that was driving you there. But then you were boiling with heat once again as you felt his cum leaking out of you around the base of his cock where the two of you were joined - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling. And you loved soaking in the filthy knowledge that he had cum so quickly simply from being spanked. 

He was definitely a brat who liked to be punished. Someone who needed to be put in his place by you. 

You should have been angry with him for foregoing the condom, and cumming inside of you so abruptly. But you couldn’t find much anger there as he bit your shoulder and moaned hoarsely as his orgasm pumped through him. It only lit a bitter fire in your belly, telling you that you were going to keep him, because this turned you on too damn much. 

Spencer moved to pull away as the clenching of your pussy around him became too much. But you weren’t going to let him get away that easily. 

You moved both your hands to his ass cheeks, digging your nails into the flesh there. You clung onto him hard and made a rough movement, shoving him forward until his cock fucked all the way back into you. You moaned under your breath at this and he let out a tattered gasp at the pure overstimulation. 

“You’re not done yet.” You told him, entirely demanding. “You wanted it so damn bad, brat. So go on. Keep going.” 

Spencer moaned at this. He almost wanted to argue - he was tired, that had been so much for him. 

But as he became dizzy with the feeling of hot pin pricks all over his almost numb, still somehow rock hard cock, he could find no flaws in your logic. He only wanted to say yes. He wanted to live inside your pussy forever. He realized that he never wanted to pull out if you weren’t going to make him. 

He tucked his forehead back into the crook of your neck and began fucking into you roughly once again, battering his hips between the sharp prick of your nails in his ass and the hot pool of his own cum that he had left inside of you. 

“Thank you!” He moaned out. “Thank you, thank you, oh thank you!” 

“You better fucking thank me.”

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, and there will not be a sequel or a continuation to it. If you enjoyed it, please comment about the body of work that has been written. If you like my writing style and want to read more about Spencer, definitely check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist, or you can check out my other Masterlists to see if something else catches your eye.

[ghibliwatcher]

Denji taking interest in you | Yandere Denji x reader

— I’m still reading the first few chapters so it might not be accurate LMAO

Warning — not proofread, talks about murder briefly

After turning into Chainsaw Man for the first time, he met Makima. You were also there, but he didn’t notice at first since Makima was there to catch him from falling

The first time he notices you was during the car, where you take Makima’s jacket (she had asked you to, and you agreed) and put it over his bare shoulders. He was surprised to say the least, since you had treated him so kindly and not viewed him as trash

You sat there confused while Denji was staring intensely into your eyes (you were internally freaking out)

Makima saw this as an opportunity and pulled you aside while Denji was off to save a girl from a demon

“I think he likes you.” Makima smiled once she saw your confused look.

You had thought Denji had taken a liking towards Makima since her plan was to manipulate him into being his pet, so you brushed her comment off

“Why not? I bet you two could pull it off, and you know he has something I want. Why not make it easier for me since you two are the same age?”

You know her comment wasn’t a suggestion, more like an order. Once you saw Denji coming back with the girl, you reluctantly agreed

At first, you only saw Denji as a friend as you spent more time with him; however, Denji saw this as an opportunity

He begged you to feed him the soggy ramen because he couldn’t ‘move’

“Pleaseee, I can’t really move on my own…” How could you say no to those puppy eyes?

Makima smiled again as you and Denji interact with each other

As more time went on, Denji had started acting weird

Whenever you’re around with your male coworkers, Denji would bark at them to get away from you and hold your hand

“You would never leave me, right?” Denji had asked you once. You were quite taken aback, but your feelings had started to develop more for the boy so you replied with a “never”

His heart went SOARING after that

If you and him aren’t working together, he would throw a tantrum (even if Power was his partner, he would beg someone to replace her with you)

Denji was also trying to convince himself that you two were together. That’s why he was so ‘protective’ of you

Aki had a deep concern for the lovesick boy and had tried to talk to you about it, but Denji would always be sticking by your side 24/7

Once you two officially got together, Denji became more intimate with you (hugging you from behind, murdering anyone whoever dares to look at you)

You wondered why there were less coworkers now? And where was Aki? (You had also saw specks of blood on Denji but you assumed that it was from a devil)

In short, Denji is hopelessly in love with you and would do anything for you.

[autumnshighlady]

Yes, sir

Eris x female!reader

part of The Professor Series

summary: you've been trying to impress Dr. Vanserra for weeks, and an opportunity presents itself when he offers you private study sessions ;)

warnings: smut, power dynamic, name calling, oral sex (f receiving), thigh riding, face sitting, fingering, inappropriate use of mirror, tw: Ianthe

word count: 6.7k

request/prompt: Eris would undoubtedly be a history teacher, sarcastic at times and rigid

a/n: i got my degree in medieval history so there's a bit of rambling in this fic about my area of study since Eris is a history professor, figured i spent 4 years researching it so may as well incorporate it into this fic lmao feel free to breeze past the reader's monologue about the study material (or read it if you're interested hehe)

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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“Does anyone know why this manuscript was significant to political theory at the time of its creation?”

A few hands raised around you in the lecture hall, yours included. Political history professor Dr. Eris Vanserra paced slowly across the floor, his amber eyes scanning the rows of students for someone to pick on. His red hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a look that had more than a few of you swooning. His red button up shirt complimented the brown tweed jacket on his shoulders, an outfit that no doubt cost you more than you made in a month. Dr. Vanserra always had the nicest outfits out of all your professors, never coming to class with a thread out of place.

Over the last few weeks, you had come to terms with the fact that you were harbouring an intense crush on him. You couldn’t help it – he spoke with such elegance, explaining the most boring concepts in a way that had you utterly entranced. Frequently, you found yourself staring at his slender hands, which he often gestured with as he spoke. He was a strict professor, who had no patience for any fooling around during class. But his dry jokes were laced with sarcasm, adding to his charming wit. Everyone tried to impress him – Dr. Vanserra was a distant male, often brushing off students in his office hours as if he wanted as little interaction as possible. He never complimented their work either, a simple head nod being the closest anyone has gotten to positive feedback. He was quick to point out what you did wrong, never beating around the bush.

And so you moved your seat from the back of the class to the front, always making sure to be the first student in the door and the last one to leave. It was tough, with other students just as eager to gain a minute of his attention. But you welcomed the challenge, craving to be the one who broke his rigid exterior and get him to show that he at least had a heart. That included always being ready to answer any questions.

Eris’s glowing gaze landed on you, and your heart fluttered. For a moment, you were sure he would call on you to answer the question. But his gaze came as quickly as it left, landing on the blonde female two seats down from you, Ianthe.

“They’re important because they were written by a woman,” Ianthe said proudly, her annoying voice raising three pitches higher than what you knew was her normal voice. “The only one of its time, too. Proof that women in the elite class were learning to read and write just like the men.”

Ianthe proudly lifted her chin up, satisfied with her answer. Dr. Vanserra took a single step towards her, and she crossed her arms together and leaned her elbows on the table, her big eyes wide as she batted her lashes at the professor. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her lack of subtly, noting how ridiculous she looked trying to push her breasts together to show off her cleavage.

“A weak and shallow take, Ianthe, as per usual.” Eris said, sarcastic disappointment lacing his voice. 

You had to cough to conceal your laugh. Ianthe was always trying to suck up to Dr. Vanserra, always humiliating herself along the way yet failing to recognize how foolish she looked.

“Is there anyone who can answer my question with a point that’s actually worth my precious time to listen to?” He continued, surveying the hesitant class.

Your hand shot up once again, and this time the professor’s gaze landed on you. He nodded, his stoic face revealing nothing as he waited for you to make your point.

“It’s the only manuscript we currently possess that’s written by a woman in its time,” You began. “That doesn’t mean it’s the only one to have existed. And the author being our only example of a body of literature written by a woman in its era doesn’t mean all elite women were doing the same. Her husband was a close friend of the emperor’s, acting as one of his closest counsellors. It’s highly likely that her husband’s unusually high status is the reason she was able to read and write.”

Dr. Vanserra nodded. “Carry on.”

You tried to ignore the intensity of his gaze as you scrambled to remember your information. “Well, the manuscript itself gives us insight into the political strife of the realm. Many of our other sources from that era never address the problem because they don’t want the history books to remember the bad times. Not only does she directly address the political issues at hand, but she also inserts herself into the narrative, something no other source from its time does. So while it’s written as a book of advice to her son who’s a political prisoner in an enemy court, it gives us insight into 3 aspects of family in that era: feelings, authority, and consciousness. Which also links back to what we talked about last week regarding the connection between the theme of consciousness within this era’s literature.”

You let out a breath, trying not to shake. The professor continued to stare at you, expressionless, leaving you unsure if your points were completely bogus or not. Finally, Dr. Vanserra dipped his head. “Good.” He said plainly, and Ianthe audibly huffed. “Now speaking of last week’s material…”

Dr. Vanserra continued his lecture, and you felt Ianthe shooting daggers at you with her eyes. But you didn’t care, you were too busy riding the high of your first ever praise from the instructor – anyone’s first ever praise from him, now that you thought of it. You happily scrawled down your notes for the remainder of the period, until the clock struck 9am, indicating class was over.

“I will expect the first draft of your midterm essays in three weeks, do not forget.” Dr. Vanserra said as students began packing up. “It’s going to take me a hundred hours to go through them all, so make them worth the headache it will cause me.”

Students began scurrying out the door, and you were grateful that you had no classes for the rest of the day. You packed up your things more slowly, your books and notepads stacked in an organised pile, just how you liked it. You stepped around the front of your desk and scooped them up in your arms, but quickly collided with a blonde female carrying a very full mug of coffee.

“Oh my goodness!” Ianthe squealed, her voice sweet as honey. “Your notes! I am so sorry hun, let me help you clean that up.”

Anger boiled in your blood, and it took everything in you not to yank her by her blonde hair and drag her face through the spilled mess. “It’s ok,” You forced yourself to say through gritted teeth. “It was an accident.”

“Oopsies!” She chuckled, her blue eyes glittering. “See ya!” She skipped away, miniskirt bouncing with every step. Gods, you hated her.

You looked down at your fallen pile of notes, now drenched in caffeine and completely illegible. Kneeling down, you tried to see if anything was salvageable, but nothing remained. Tears welled in your eyes – weeks of hard work, just gone. You felt your white t-shirt sticking to your chest, now strained with brown.

You hadn’t even noticed Dr. Vanserra approach. His pale, slender hand appeared next to yours, picking up a drenched piece of paper. You looked up, seeing him crouched down in front of you.

“Can any of it be saved?” He asked, her voice still stoic but slightly softer.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak without crying yet.

Dr. Vanserra clucked his tongue. “Unfortunate. You’ve worked very hard on those.”

“Those are all my notes from the last few weeks,” You said quietly, lip wobbling. “Sir… I have nothing to work with for my essay draft now.”

He merely hummed as if deep in thought before grabbing the soaked papers from your hands and standing up. You heard him stride over to the trash bin and lift the lid, tossing the remains of the material inside. His expensive shoes clicked on the floor as he walked back over to you. His hand reached out, coming into your lowered field of view.

You looked up at him through teary eyes, confused. 

“Come on, get up.” Dr. Vanserra said, sighing. “She wins if you sit like that, just sulking. So get up and come with me.”

Trying not to tremble, you grabbed his hand. He pulled you up with surprising strength, his hand warm despite the freezing temperature of the room. Wordlessly, he grabbed your bags along with his own, walking out of the lecture hall with long strides. Puzzled, you scrambled to follow, too nervous to say a word. This was the most Dr. Vanserra had ever spoken to you, you didn’t want to risk screwing it up by saying something stupid. 

You followed him all the way to his office, shutting the door behind you as you entered the space. Rich tones of red, amber, and green adorned the room, expensive looking furniture and decor scattered everywhere in an organised manner. The office was filled with more candles than you could count, their orange flames flickering gently. Dr. Vanserra set your bags down on one of the chairs before finally speaking.

“Twelve lectures worth of your notes are gone, and you cannot do anything about that.” He said sternly. “So do not cry over it. However, I do not want to see you fall behind and try to redo the notes off of memory alone. You will fail the course if you do so. Therefore, for the next two weeks, we will meet in my office every day at 5pm. Each session we will go over one lecture, and you will redo your notes. We can go slow to ensure you do not miss anything, and you may ask me any questions you need. That will give you only a week to complete your draft, but at least you will not be lacking half the material needed for it. Does this work for you?”

Your jaw went slack. One on one review with the professor? It was the golden ticket you needed to succeed in this course, and you were going to make it count. “Yes, sir, absolutely.” You replied quickly, letting out a breath. “Thank you, Dr. Vanserra, thank you.”

“We are going to be spending a lot of time together over the next two weeks, my dear. You can call me Eris.”

Your heart flipped. “Eris.” You corrected yourself, testing his name on your tongue.

He smirked. “Excellent. Now that we are on a first name basis, I can comfortably tell you that the coffee has rendered your shirt see through.”

The blood drained from your face, and your arms shot from your sides to cover your chest. As luck would have it, you weren’t wearing a bra that day, meaning your nipples were likely visible through the wet white shirt. “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You stammered, cheeks flushing red.

“It’s quite alright.” Eris strolled towards a small dresser in the corner of the room, opening up the middle drawer and pulling out a cream coloured polo sweater with a v-neck. “Put this on, I won’t have my student walking around campus with her tits in plain sight.”

You blushed deeply, taking the fabric from him. It was the softest thing you’d felt, and smelled strongly of the cologne you frequently caught a whiff of whenever the professor walked by you. The plainness of his words made your brain go haywire, and you stood there dumbly.

“Unless you want to give me a show, I suggest you turn around and change so I can put your shirt in a bag for you to take home.” Eris said, a hint of mischief behind his amber gaze.

You turned around, reaching down and pulling the ruined t-shirt over your head. You shivered, feeling those eyes burning into your bare back as you carefully held your arm out behind you with the shirt balled inside your fist.

Eris took it, and you heard him turn around and walk away, presumably to grab a bag. You quickly pulled the sweater over your head, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach that danced happily at the thought of wearing your professor’s sweater.

“All done.” You said, turning around. “I’ll get this dry cleaned before I give it back.”

The male only shrugged as he tossed your shirt into a spare grocery bag. “Clean it, keep it, shred it, it matters not to me. I have three more identical to that one.”

“Uh, ok.” You muttered. The idea of keeping his sweater felt wrong, but you were secretly thrilled that he suggested it.

Eris took a seat behind his desk, pulling out books from his briefcase. “Now be gone with you, I have research to do. And remember, 5pm tomorrow. Do not be late.”

“I won’t.” You promised, grabbing your bags and making your exit.

Maybe it was a good thing Ianthe spilled her coffee on you.

************************

ONE WEEK LATER

You tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep hours after your study session with Eris. At first, they had been gruelling. Eris would grill you for every answer you gave him, making sure you could confidently back up your claims. Your brain was exhausted by the end of it, but you were happy. Eris had also given you helpful anecdotes that he hadn’t mentioned to the class. You had twice as many notes as before, and they were twice as helpful.

He was different than when he taught in class. More patient, less demanding. He spoke slower, allowing you to catch up if you fell behind. His strict persona was as rigid as ever in class, but you found he was calling on you more and more to answer questions. It delighted you.

At first, you had sat in the chair in front of his desk. But today, the chair was moved beside his. More than once, your leg knocked against his muscular thigh, and you’d murmur an embarrassed apology. Eris never acknowledged it, only smirked before returning to the material at hand. You still felt the tingling sensation on your own thigh from earlier when he gently squeezed it. You had gotten a tough question right, and Eris had reached down and put his hand on your thigh, quickly squeezing it before retreating.

Your face had gone bright red, and there was no way he hadn’t noticed. Just that one simple action had made your core throb with need. It didn’t help that he had begun calling you pet names, such as ‘my dear’ and ‘love’. You drank them up, his silver tongue making the nicknames sound just right. Every time he said them, it went straight to your core. 

Studying with your professor had suddenly become incredibly hard.

You rolled over in your bed once more, hoping that perhaps this side of the sheets would finally bring you sleep. But every time you closed your eyes, all you could think about was Eris’s touch on your thigh, and how it would feel if his hand was higher up, right where you had dreamed about it being. You imagined his slender fingers pumping inside you, filthy words falling from his lips like the first snow of winter, red hair falling in your face was his body moulded over top of yours–

“Get it together.” You scolded yourself. “He’s your fucking professor. It was nothing. Stop overthinking.”

But that didn’t stop you from sneaking your hand between your legs in a last ditch effort to ease yourself into sleep.

************************

A few days later, you checked your outfit in the bathroom mirror at 4:55pm before heading to Eris’s office. You hadn’t slept well last night, so you opted for a casual pair of soft, flowing green pants paired with a simple cream coloured button up. You’d be lying to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t deliberately chosen the pants that seemed to be Eris’s favourite shade of green. It was hard to sleep when all you could think about was how close you were going to be sitting to him the next day.

At 5pm on the dot, you opened the door to his office. “Good evening, sir.” You greeted him, locking the door behind you. It was something he insisted on, claiming he didn’t want his other students barging in thinking you were getting special treatment.

“Hello, my dear.” Eris said. “We’re covering lecture 10 today, I assume you brought the material.”

You nodded, setting your bag next to the desk before making your way around to Eris’s side. You paused, noticing something was missing. “Where’s my chair?” You asked.

“Oh, that thing,” Eris tutted, lips drawn into a faint smirk. “I gave it to my brother for the week. His office chair broke, and he has fifty students lined up outside his office every day who need it more than I do.”

Your mouth was dry, unsure of what game he was playing. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“I think there’s enough room over here for you.” Eris’s voice was velvety and laced with smugness. His brown eyes glowed, like a viper approaching a small creature to make its first strike.

“Oh, do you want me to stand?” You tried hesitantly. No way this was going where you think it was going, right? 

“For two hours? I wouldn’t do that to you. Come here.” He beckoned you forward with a come here motion and spread his legs ever so slightly, making your stomach do a somersault. Your body obeyed him without question, stepping forward until Eris grabbed your hand and pulled you down, causing you to fall onto his lap with a yelp. Strong hands gripped your hips, adjusting you so you were perched on his right thing, one leg on each side.

You bit your lip so the whimper that had built in your throat didn’t slip through. Your throbbing core was pressed right into the hard muscle of Eris’s thigh, emitting a heat you were sure he would feel.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He purred, his lips dangerously close to your ear. His breath was warm, sending shivers down your spine.

You stuttered something incoherent in response, but Eris cut you off casually, reaching forward and opening your book. His knee hiked up a bit, pushing his thigh further into your core. This time, you couldn’t stop the noise you let out.

“Are you alright, love?” Eris asked innocently. You gritted your teeth – he knew what he was doing, and was trying to get a reaction from you. As much as you wanted him, you were stubborn.

Two could play this game.

“Just fine.” You quipped, attempting to keep your composure.

“Wonderful. Let us begin.”

************************

An hour later, your lip had indents on it from your teeth. It was the most torturous study session you’d ever had in your life. It was less than 10 minutes in before Eris took it up a notch. He had rested one hand on your hip, a simple gesture as if to steady you. But his thumb found its way underneath the fabric of your shirt and began to rub small circles above the bone. 

The more questions Eris asked you, the closer he leaned into you. His lips began grazing your ear as he spoke, driving you wild. He didn’t sit still either, casually moving his leg from time to time, causing you to slide forward, clit grazing the sinewy muscle.

It was a slow torture.

“You seem distracted.” Eris murmured in your ear, readjusting himself again and sending another wave of pleasure through your core. You couldn’t help it, a quiet moan leaving your mouth as you felt yourself giving up.

He chuckled darkly, sliding the rest of the hand under your shirt fabric and resting it on the skin above your hip bone. “You’ve been working so hard my dear, I can’t have you unfocused.”

The rest of his fingers began tracing lazy, teasing circles against your flesh. You arched into his touch, tears from the lack of stimulation to your cunt threatening to form in your eyes if he didn’t touch you soon.

“Please.” You murmured quietly.

“Please what?” Eris asked, feigning cluelessness but letting his teeth scrape the shell of your ear. “If you need something from me, you need only ask. And I will be happy to oblige.”

The bastard was really going to make you admit it. He knew what he had been doing for the past hour, teasing you subtly to the point where you’d beg for more. Your earlier determination was gone, replaced by a pathetic neediness for his touch.

“Touch me, please.” You whined, not caring how weak you sounded.

Eris paused for a second. “No.”

Your eyes shot open in surprise. If this was some sick game to humiliate you, you were going to kill him. “What do you mean–”

“You know what you want to do right now,” He cut you off, his voice low. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at my thighs for the past few days. This is your chance to take what you want, sweetheart. Only once you grind yourself into my thigh to show me how desperate you are for me, will I finally touch you.”

Humiliation burned through you. No matter how stubborn you were, it was no match for Eris’s. There was no way you’d be able to convince him to put his hands on you without first doing what he asked.

You leaned forward, placing your hands on his knee for support as your clit finally made contact with his thigh. You began rocking your hips, moaning at the relief it brought you. 

“Come on, I know you can give me more than that.” Eris remarked from behind you.

You groaned and ground your hips harder into his thigh, pleasure intensifying. You swivelled your hips back and forth and in circular motions, trying to find a path to the release you had been craving.

“Fuck.” You moaned, glancing sideways at the mirror that was propped against the wall adjacent to his desk. The sight nearly made you gasp. Your face was flushed, blissed out as you grinded into Eris’s thigh, a small wet patch having formed on his light brown trousers. Eris was leaning back in his chair, his eyes hungrily drinking in the view from behind of you riding his thigh. His face was dark with want, and his knuckles were white as they gripped the side of the chair.

You continued your motions, grinding into your professor’s thigh in his locked office, coming so close to building that familiar coil in your stomach but never quite getting there.

“Eris…” You moaned.

“Yes, my dear?” Came his reply.

“I need you. Please, sir, I need you to touch me.”

One glance in the mirror and you knew you were victorious. Calling him ‘sir’ seemed to have softened his determination to make you grind into him until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Aw, can you not get yourself off on my thigh without help?” He mocked, stroking your hip again. “You need me that badly, don’t you? You know how unsatisfying it would be to cum without my touch.”

He spun the chair around, lifting your hips with one hand and peeling your pants and underwear off at the same time. The two of you were now facing the mirror, able to take in the sinfulness of the situation in full view. Eris adjusted you on his lap so that you were sitting atop his bulge, legs spread over each of his legs. Your needy cunt was on display, and you leaned back into his solid chest.

“Such a greedy little thing.” Eris said. One of his hands reached down and stroked your clit, while the other wrapped around your other hip and began to tease your entrance. For a second, you thought he was going to cruelly pull away, leaving you high and dry. But moments later he plunged a finger inside you, increasing the speed and pressure on your clit as well.

Your entire body twitched with the sudden wave of pleasure, ten times more intense than anything you had given yourself. Your moan this time was loud, echoing throughout the vast space of the office. His hands worked you in all the right places, confidently finding the perfect pleasure spots as if he had been given a map to your body and spent years studying it.

“Is that better?” Eris cooed, running his lips up and down your neck. “Is this what you’ve been fantasising about, being completely at my mercy as I make you feel good?”

“Gods, yes.” You cried out, arching into him.

“There are no gods here to help you, my dear,” He chuckled darkly. “Only me.”

Eris bit down on the juncture between your shoulder and neck, causing you to gasp. But you welcomed the sting of it, sighing as his silver tongue caressed the indents in your skin. Your legs began to tense up, feeling the orgasm you had been so desperately craving building up. The wet squelching sounds of Eris’s fingers on your cunt sang in harmony with your moans, as you watched the scene in the mirror through half-closed eyes.

“That’s it, love.” Eris murmured, sucking your neck just below the curve of your jaw. “Cum all over my hands.”

Your body obeyed, erupting into a burst of flaming pleasure as your orgasm hit you hard. Eris’s fingers continued to work you through your high, intensifying it tenfold. You were a whimpering, twitching mess in your professor’s lap. Finally, he removed his hands from between your legs, giving you a merciful break. You slouched into him, panting.

Your professor had just given you the most intense orgasm of your life.

After a few minutes letting your body recover, Eris picked you up with ease, bridal style in his arms. He settled you both down on the couch, placing his hand on your inner thigh and slowly sliding it back towards your core. You whimpered as his fingers grazed your sensitive slit, causing him to chuckle.

“Oh you poor, sweet thing,” Eris mocked. “You didn’t think that would be it, did you? I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Your mind reeled as he adjusted himself, laying back flat on the couch and pulling you on top of him. Luckily, you caught yourself with one arm on his chest so you didn’t land flat on his body. Eris’s hand reached behind your neck, grabbing you firmly and pulling your lips into his. You groaned, shifting on top of him so you were straddling his waist to get more comfortable. Eris’s grip was tight, putting you at the mercy of his kiss as his lips consumed your own. You melted into his mouth like butter, sighing as his tongue danced with your own.

His other hand reached down and squeezed your backside, pushing your hips into his crotch and causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths. The noise that emitted from Eris’s lips was the most delightful thing you had ever heard, you decided. It filled you with determination to see what other sounds your professor could make. So you ground your hips into his bulge again, causing him to groan.

“Careful,” He growled, nipping at your lip in warning. “You’re playing with fire here, my dear. Did I say you could grind on my cock like a desperate whore?”

You paused, heat rushing to your core at his filthy words. You’d always loved the sound of Eris’s voice, and hearing him say such sinful things to you brought a fresh wave of arousal.

A hard smack landed on your ass, making you yelp in surprise.

“I asked you a question.” Eris said sternly. “Did I give you permission to grind on my cock, yes or no?”

“No.” You answered sheepishly.

“No is right. Sit up. You’re going to make it up to me.”

You frowned in confusion, but did as you were told, propping yourself up and sitting back down on Eris’s hips, trying to ignore the way his cock dug into your backside. You took a second to admire Eris’s form laying on the luxurious couch beneath you. His red hair was fanned around his face like the morning rays of sunshine, a beautiful contrast with the dark green of the sofa. His expression was relaxed, but calculating as always – angular cheekbones made more prominent in the light of the candles, his amber eyes glowing with desire. It was a sight you wanted to commit to memory forever.

“Remove your shirt, and come ride my face.” Eris said plainly. You baulked, having expected him to tell you to get on your knees and take his cock down your throat. You were supposed to make up for disobeying him by… letting him eat you out? Most males you had been with had been selfish, only going down on you if you sucked them off first. But Eris was different.

“I would suggest you listen and do as I say, unless you want to be bent over my knee and spanked until you cannot walk, and are ordered not to cum for a week.” Eris’s voice was less patient this time, noting your hesitation.

Something dark in his eyes told you he meant it, so you obeyed, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it off your shoulders, followed by your bra. You were now completely naked on top of Eris, who remained fully clothed. Under any other circumstances, you’d have insisted he at least partially undress first. But you knew his patience was wearing thin, and as much as you secretly wouldn’t mind being spanked, the thought of not coming for a week was something you couldn’t do.

You crawled your way up his body, seating a knee on either side of his head. You lifted your hips, core inches from his face. The male was practically salivating beneath you as you gingerly lowered your cunt to skim his lips.

“I thought I told you to sit.” Eris said.

You gawked. “But I don’t want to suffocate–”

Your sentence was interrupted by a frustrated growl from your professor. He gripped your hips firmly and pulled you down hard, seating you fully on his mouth. You cried out as his tongue expertly stroked your folds, flicking your clit as he ate you out with precision that made you weak. Instinctively, one hand came down to grip Eris’s red locks, causing him to moan into your cunt. His hair was soft in your fingers, and you relished in the feeling of it.

You felt Eris’s hands guide your hips back and forth, encouraging you to rock them against his face. Moans left your lips as you obliged, grinding into his face like you had on his thigh. Evidently, this pleased Eris and he groaned, which sent delicious vibrations through your core.

You let your head fall back, shamelessly riding Eris’s mouth as you pulled on his hair. If your grip caused him any pain, he gave no indication of it. Whenever you tried to lift your hips to let him breathe, his grip only tightened and firmly held you in place. It wasn’t long before you climaxed again, letting out a choked cry as your juices covered his face. After catching your breath, letting Eris wipe his face with his fingers before sicking the digits clean, you climbed off of him, collapsing into a sitting position on the couch as Eris sat up next to you. His skilled fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt, and you hungrily drank in the sight of his bare chest as he pulled the expensive material off.

“You did so well, my dear.” Eris purred. “I think you can cum one more time for me. Ride my cock this time, love, make a pretty mess all over it just like you did with my face. And my fingers… and thigh.”

Your mouth went slack. After two orgasms, you weren’t sure if you could handle a third. But the desire to please him outweighed any reservations you had about your sensitive body, so you reached down and unlaced his breeches, making eye contact as you did so. Eris smirked, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion as you pulled out his long cock and stroked it once. The tip was red and needy, leaking with precum and making your mouth water. You swung your leg over his hips, straddling them. One of your hands reached towards Eris’s cock, grabbing it and lining it up with your entrance. You took a breath, and began to sink down.

You stopped after getting just the tip in, trying to catch your breath. The stretch stung, and you weren’t sure how you were going to fit the rest of it in, especially being so oversensitive still. Eris simply watched with his hands behind his head casually, a smug look on his face. He did not help you, seemingly content to watch you struggle to take his length.

You forced your body to relax, sliding to about halfway down before stopping, moaning dizzily. All of your senses were completely overwhelmed, and you felt so full with only half his cock inside you. 

“Aw, are you finding it difficult to take me, love?” Eris mocked. “Maybe you can’t handle it–”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, for his teasing tone filled you with sheer determination and you slammed yourself down onto him. Eris was cut off in a strangled moan, eyes widening as you impaled your cunt on his cock. The force of it knocked the wind out of you, but you didn’t let it stop you. You swirled your hips, pulling yourself up his length before falling down on him again, bracing your hands on his shoulders for support. Gods, he was so deep inside of you, touching places that made your head spin.

“Fucking hell.” Eris groaned, his voice rough as you slid up and down on his cock at a relentless pace. You twisted and swivelled your hips as you did so, your cunt squeezing his cock at new angles that made your professor gasp. You threw your head back, and Eris took the opportunity to lean forward and wrap his arms around your back, pulling your chest closer to him and taking your breast in his mouth. 

The new sensation made you cry out, but you refused to let your pace falter. Eris’s teeth scraped your nipple, sucking harshly before moving to your other breast. His hips began slamming up into you to meet your own, making the coil in your belly tighten.

“Eris…” You whined, tangling your hands in his hair again.

“That’s it, love, say my name,” Eris reached one hand down to roll your clit with his thumb, while the other gripped your throat and squeezed. “Let everyone know who’s fucking you dumb right now. Let them hear you scream for me as your tight little cunt takes my cock.”

You rode him with a vigour you didn’t know you possessed, shamelessly moaning his name over and over again. “Eris… Eris…. Eris!” It was overwhelming, your professor’s cock slamming in and out of you, his hand rolling your clit while the other held you by the throat. You kept your grip on his hair, yanking as you climaxed one last time, the action of your fingers pulling his red locks making Eris cry out too. His hips stuttered as his cum shot through you, your cunt clenching around him as you rode out your own orgasm. It was the most intense out of all the ones you had so far, the warmth of Eris spilling inside you making you dizzy with pleasure. 

You leaned forward, dragging your lips up Eris’s throat as he moaned with you clenching around him. He cursed, the slip in his control filling you with pride. His skin tasted like rich autumn spices. You pulled his cock out from inside you and collapsed into his chest, panting. You didn’t realise how exhausted your body was until now. Every cell in you was completely spent, leaving you unable to move. You fought the sleepiness, but the warmth from Eris’s chest was too comforting and darkness overcame you.

************************

A few hours later, you opened your eyes. For a moment, you expected to be in your own bed, the whole thing having been a dream. But you took in your surroundings, realising you were still in Eris’s office. The professor was sitting at his desk, quietly grading. You scrambled upright, the blanket that had been draped across you falling onto your lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You stammered. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Eris looked up at you, smirking. “You have nothing to apologise for. I take pride in your passing out, actually. Means I did my job well, not that there was any doubt based on the noises you made.”

You blushed furiously, but then looked down at your body. You expected to be sweaty and gross from the sex, utterly naked and exposed. But you felt clean, as if you had been wiped down with a wet cloth and then dried. Your old clothes were neatly folded on the ground next to you, and you were dressed in a pair of soft, forest green sweatpants and a white crew neck sweater. They definitely were not Eris’s size. “You keep women’s clothes in your office?” You asked, confused.

“I keep a spare set of attire for all the female students I fuck in here.” Eris’s voice was dry, and you whipped around to stare at him with wide eyes. “That was a joke, my dear. I had them picked out last week. You know, in case Ianthe decided she wanted to spill more coffee on you in the future.”

You snorted, heart fluttering at the surprising thoughtfulness of his actions. While you had hoped he wouldn’t just toss your clothes at you and send you on your way without a word, given the professor’s rigidness it hadn’t been entirely out of the question. “You’re not funny.”

“On the contrary, I am terribly funny.”

“You got these clothes last week, was it really because of Ianthe or was your plan to fuck me all along? Is that why you offered to help me in the first place?”

Eris rolled his amber eyes, giving you a stern look. “No. My offer to help you was, and is, genuine, and with your best academic interests in mind. I may be a prick, but I am not cruel. Fucking you was a delightful bonus, not an expectation.”

His words reassured you. Despite his strict reputation, it seemed Dr. Vanserra had a heart after all. You checked the clock, realising it was almost 9:30pm. “Shit, I have to get home now. My roommate is going to think I fell off the face of the earth.”

You hastily grabbed your things, giving Eris a quick kiss on the mouth before hurrying to the doorway. You had no idea what this meant for the two of you, if it was a one time thing to satisfy both your needs, or something more. Regardless, you didn’t want to think too much about it, content to bask in the aftermath of the best sex you’ve ever had.

“Same time tomorrow.” Eris piped up right before you opened your door. “Don’t be late.”

“Yes sir.” You smirked at the twitch of his face at your words.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?”

A sadistic grin crossed Eris’s face. “When you get home, I’m positive you will be reminiscing about the mind blowing orgasms you just had. But you are not to touch yourself until I see you tomorrow night, am I clear? There will be… repercussions, if you disobey me.”

You baulked, embarrassed that he had seen right through you, but nodded anyway. As the door closed behind you, you wondered if you were going to last the next 20 hours without breaking his rule.

[neteyamslovrr]

Okay Ao'nung falls in love with Sully na'vi fem Reader who is albino and doesn't know why but catches himself staring at them at every chance he gets because he's never seen anyone like her before and his friends say something rude but he shuts that down quickly and is immediately trying to court her and Reader is surprised because no one at her old village showed an interest in her (she's the oldest Sully kid) and he's genuinely surprised because who wouldn't want to court someone so gorgeous (I haven't seen any fics of albino na'vi reader) fluffy ending!

PEARL

summary: you never received much romantic attention in your clan, so the least you expected was the son of the metkayina to get violent for you.

contents: 1.7k words, fem!sullyreader, swearing, fighting, bullying, wee bit of angst, fluffy ending

authors note: thankyou for always interacting bae i love u and this req. hopefully it is good <3 i lowkey struggled lmao. ALSO this photo of him woof woof

You were different. You knew that. Everyone around you knew that. Your skin was pale, derived of the usual blue, eyes, and hair so light that it glimmered in the sunlight. A sight to behold, ‘Eywa knew the world needed your light.’ As your father said.

 You were the first one of your people to look like this. Mo’at assumed it was because your father was born of the sky-people, but it was just an appearance level change, you were the same as everyone else in the inside, so people treated you as such.

You were treated just like everyone, never excluded, ridiculed, or made fun of. Well, who would do that to the daughter of Toruk Makto. Though, you noticed as you got older that the Omaticaya men never looked at you the way they would look at your friends, no googly eyes were sent your way or efforts of courtship. No late night walks or little gifts. Your love life was barren, no sprout or seedling of love budding in sight.

So, when your family up and left your home, everything you ever knew. You expected one thing to be the same. That there would be no mate waiting for you in your new home, just as there wasn’t one in your old home.

Ao’nung noticed the commotion that was emerging at the shores of his village, the sounds of horns blaring as the hunters started to come in from the sea. His curiosity bested him as his body moved unconsciously to investigate. Only to be met with the Toruk Makto and his family begging for refuge.

Their skin was a darker blue, figures lean and tails small and weak. What would they bring here that would benefit the clan at all? He thought to himself, they were weak, useless.

He focused on the intense conversation between the pairs of parents. Tension so strong it could have been pierced with a spear. But a spear didn’t break the tension surrounding Ao’nung. No. It was him catching sight of you.

It was like his body went into shock, a current running through him from head to toe. His brain felt as if it was buzzing, the only thought was of you. His father told him once about this feeling he got when he first saw his mother. Was this the feeling? Was the feeling meant to be towards a forest freak?

You were so different. Different to his people, different to your people. You were truly a sight to behold. Like a beautiful pearl, that was hiding amongst the depths of blue coral. He felt his world shatter as he saw you, your beauty was truly memorizing. It didn’t matter if your arms and tail were weak, he needed to get to know you.

You had been at the village for a month or so now. It was nothing like home, the sand felt weird on your feet, the water was never the same temperature, and the people never stopped staring. Something you missed so dearly from home is even if you were different, you were still Omaticaya. Here you weren’t Metkayina, you barely looked Na’vi to them. So all it ended in was occasion ridicule from the teenage boys when your younger brothers weren’t around to protect you.

Though in the time you had been here. You had grown closer to the chief’s son, Ao’nung. He made it a commitment to talk to you every day, whether it was small talk, or a late night walk. You couldn’t tell when you started to develop feelings for him. You assumed you only did because he was the first person who ever showed you the courtesy of manners, even if he was hostile to your brothers. He became someone who you could be with, to protect yourself from the teenage ridicule.  

In your month, you had found yourself a favourite spot to sit and look at the waves. Resting yourself against a tall tree, bark itchy against your soft back as you dig your toes into the sand below you. Still trying to get used to the odd texture. It was somewhat peaceful, the sound of the waves. Not as calming as the sounds of rain in the forest, pitter pattering on the leaves. But it was still peaceful.

However, it was short-lived. The sounds of waves being crushed by the sounds of quiet mutterings behind you.

“Is she sick? She isn’t even the same as her family of freaks?”

“She reflects in the sun dude! That’s so fucked up.”

“She’s barely Na’vi she’s basically a vvrtep” The statements were followed with a couple of quiet chuckles. You wondered if they knew you could hear them. They probably relished in it honestly.

Though you tried to not let the comments get to you, they pained you to hear. It hurt to hear such degradation. Pushing the tears back until the suffocated you, is what it felt like to act tough in front of them.

But the quiet mutters and chuckles suddenly turned into loud thumps and yells as commotion started to brew behind you.

“Y’know what’s fucked up? Your face after I beat you shitless.” Scurrying from your spot you watched the fight in front of you. There was Ao’nung, riled up and furious, beating his friends face in after he mocked you.

“Brother what is wrong with you?!” His friend hysterically questioned as he fought off Ao’nung’s fists, getting one punch straight to the Ao’nung’s nose.

“You do not speak of her like that.” Ao’nung was seething, his words coming out as a hiss spitting in his friend’s face. As he was now being held back by his other friend, fists drenched in the blood of his ‘friend.’

“Oh, fuck me! Bit hypocritical you skxwang! Did her skin blind you and make you go insane?!” Ao’nung hissed in his face, spitting blood at him.

You were watching in horror. The bloody mess of these men was almost nauseating to look at as you realised this was because of you. The feeling of dread overcame you as your clouded mind drowned out their boisterous yelling. You held onto the fabric of your shirt, fiddling with the beads as you stared towards the men, not focused on anything but a overwhelming feeling of guilt.

“If you like that freak so much, why don’t you go and talk to her. She must be so charmed by you beating the shit out of me Ao’nung.” Leaving Ao’nung in a huff his friends bashed shoulders as they walked past him back to the village to get help.

Ao’nung was now only focused on the way your body awkwardly swayed as you stared towards him. Truthfully, he came over to talk to you. He wanted to gift you this bracelet he had hand woven with a small pearl intertwined in the rope, so he could say it was beautiful and reminded him of you. Yet he feels as if he had messed up any chance he had of being flirtatious with you, after he is covered in the blood of a friend.

“Ao’nung.” It was a meek whisper, it scratched as it came out of your throat. Not able to create eye-contact with him. His stare still being too intimidating, the way it made your heart flutter.

“Yes.” He breathed it out, as if he had just exhaled a breath after being under water for hours. His voice begging for you to look up at him.

“Are you alright?” Gaining the courage to look up at his bruised face you wince. His nose was bleeding as his lip was slightly split. His friend can obviously punch.

“I’m fine Y/N.” He smiled down at you, looking at the way your eyes poured out concern the more you assessed his injuries.

“You are stupid. Let them talk. You talk just like them.” Tone harsh as if you were scolding a child. In response, he sulked like a child pouting his lips.

“They were being rude. I can’t let people talk about the one I admire like that. It’s not what a good mate would do.” As he let out his last sentence he fiddled with the bracelet he knotted around his loincloth, so he didn’t lose it.

You were puzzled. Good mate? Was he interested in you? Were his efforts romantic not just the obscure kindness?

“What do mean by that Ao’nung?” Your eyes followed his hand as he placed the bracelet in your hands. His fingertips were rough, they felt as if they were burning, setting your heart ablaze as he gazed at you.

“I’ve always thought pearls were beautiful, just like you.” He was never this nervous, the cocky smirk he usually adorned was wiped off his face as he nervously awaited your response.

“I’m not beautiful Ao’nung we both know that.” He shook his head as he continued to tie the bracelet around your wrist, making sure to linger his fingers on your skin as often as he could.

“You are the most beautiful woman I think I’ve ever seen, you are more gorgeous than any woman in this village.” He was holding onto your hands as if you’d fly away if he let go.

“No one’s ever said that to me before.” Ao’nung was bewildered, it was shocking to him. But he tried to not let his shock ruin the intense stare he was giving you, trying to convey the most sincerity as possible.

“Then I’ll happily be the first. And I’ll be the one calling you beautiful forever, if you accept my courting gift.” He waited eagerly for your response, it felt as if time was dragging along. His heart constricting the longer you were silent.

“Of course, I do. The bracelet is as stunning as you, how could I reject the man who stood up to be against his friends.”

“Yeah you’d have to be pretty stupid.” You scowled and gave him a playful pinch. “Ow! Y/N!”

“You ruined the moment!”

“I’ll ruin the moment more by kissing you with my bloody face!” You squealed in disgust as you shook your head.

“Absolutely not. Come with me, I’ll clean you up.” He followed you swiftly, making sure to intertwine his fingers in with yours.

“Yes ma’am.”

thankyou so much for reading lovelies <333 interacting is super duper appreciated have a great day/night <333 I'd love to see you follow ╰⁠(⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠╯

[worstqueerbaittournament]

Submission message: howdy, would like to submit keith and lance from voltron (lmao)

Submission message: BBC Sherlock and Moriarty / BBC Sherlock and John Watson

Additional propaganda: Now Keith and Lance on the other hand was a whole fucking mess that they then shoehorned in an hetero romance to try and "fix it" but by lord it was bad, everything about voltron is so fucking bad

Anyway this is my Klance propaganda : They were actually bait

Klance's queer baiting by the team was the worst!! We had to deal with NETFLIX ALSO GETTING IN ON THE QUEER BAITING!! If you searched up Kkance during the times for season 6-8, the SHOW WOULD POP UP. The directors would make jokes about it being canon, even Lance's VA got in the joke!

Their queer baiting was the worst for anyone who was even looking for an ounce of queer rep in that show. The only queer rep we got was a man who died after not even 5 minutes on screen, and shoehorned in the credit scene of a gay wedding of a character that was neither Keith nor Lance.

I do not know Agatha and Sophie, so I can't argue that klance was bigger bait or not, I just know voltron was mean lmao. the creators said stuff like "lance will be someone's first choice!" (meaning NOT ending up in a relationship with allura bc she very much chose another guy over him) and heavily implying he would be Keith's 1st choice (or a guy in general bc of point number 2). point number 2: they also released official art showing how super cool and diverse the main cast was! race! gender! LGBT - they had shiro (who was......canon gay but that's a whole other can of worms) and lance hold the sign with LGBT on it and then did absolutely nothing with that w lance at all (he hit on allura, so obvi he's not gay, but at least bi or smt) (UNLESS you count the scenes where he's flirty with keith). I just remember going into the last few seasons being like "klance probably won't be happen be honest with yourself there's like no queer kids shows!! but damn like it so could tho!!! because of how much it's been teased both in the show and by showrunners like I can't have no hope with the way the producers talk about it!" lmao I should have had no hope, but i genuinkey believed there was a possibility it could happen. and actually I discovered after the fact that i think one of the writers for the show who was the main advocate for klance (they had a lot of diff writers for eps, which led to lots of character butchering but ANYWAY) left not terribly long into the show I believe bc he didn't like the direction it was moving in and didn't want to be tied to the show anymore. so it's not like fans just made klance up either - it was written into earlier episodes with the hope and plan to continue developing later, and then just nothing ever happened with it besides INTENSE teasing it to keep queer fans around. esp after shiro's relationship was literally only a flashback and then his fiance thing or whatever got blown up before we even got to watch him interact w shiro as we knew him in present time in s7, so I think they kept being like hmmm klance and the stuff about lance being a first choice before s8 to keep ppl around. also esp bc klancers made up such a big portion of the fan base. then they made a horrible szn and ended it w a flashforward to shiro marrying some random background character who maybe had 1 line? I just remember hitting the flashforward and being like uhhhh who is this dude??? but they did that to hit those diversity points wow first gay marriage in a cartoon or smt idk it doesn't count to me really. so anyway voltron in general is queerbait lol but klance is because it started out as a legit possibility and then they said sike! but only maybe sike bc u guys are mad at us burying our guys in s7 so maybe klance could still happen haha okay now we're serious no it's not happening. anyway I think klance is p bad queerbait and a vote for them is a valid vote, not just u liking the ship.

#im sorry but johnlock is a household name in ther queerbait trenches

I don't know much about blaze runner, but this website made me endure Johnlock FOR YEARS, that ship makes me so fucking angry, and it's so much bait, the whole fucking show is just 4 kinds of bait in a trenchcoat trying to pass as something good, and Tumblr(and the rest of the goddamn world) ate it up like a five course meal. So anyway that's why I'm voting Johnlock

[t-lostinworlds]

Itty Bitty Pretty | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; mild angst; fluff; smut (18+)

》 SUMMARY: You overheard Steve’s and Robin’s debate about boobies being slightly overrated. It would've been amusing until Steve listed certain traits of boobs he found attractive. Being a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, you started feeling insecure with yours.

》 WARNINGS: not set in a particular timeline (but steve & robin still work at family video), boobs/boobies & tits/titties, steve's poor wording, steve loves (your) boobies, small misunderstanding, mentions of toxic parents (both steve & reader), past bullying, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, angel...it’s a lot), inexperienced!shy!reader, best!boyfriend!steve, dorky!steve, insecurities, fluffy reassurances, domestic bliss (!!!), showering together, steve babying/doting over r, first i love you’s, sweet & slow to intense smut (a gear shift, if u will), 18+ Content [MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!] ~ extended warnings below the cut!

》 WORD COUNT: 19.7k+ (she big like steve’s co—)

A/N: first time i saw the infamous boobies scene, this idea immediately popped into my head. i, myself, have small tits. like leaning down/arms pushing up to show cleavage? i don’t know her LMAO. so this is dedicated to all you lovelies out there who sometimes feel insecure with their breast size <3 all boobies are pretty no matter what!

++ also, basically, it’s become a thing that i only post smut once a year a.k.a. i unleash the harlot in me with no restraints any time of the year lmao. so this the 2022 Edition. so with that said, don’t expect anything groundbreaking 😭 bc again, i rarely write smut. also wrote this in 6/7 days so might be rush & i also proofread this once and kinda gave up halfway thru. but i hope you enjoy!! <3

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

⚠️SMUT WARNINGS: mentions of virgin!reader (steve's her first), dom/sub dynamic, thigh riding & cowgirl (r’s first time at both), dry humping, so much nipple play, steve sucks loves on the titties a lot, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, slight crybaby!reader (she’s a bit sensitive & emotional), soft!dom!steve & slightly mean!dom!steve (condescending/mocking), heavy praise kink, dirty talk (steve marathons his filthy ass mouth. i’m not even joking), vocal!steve, one (1) degradation (little cockslut), innocence kink (kinda? reader is slightly clueless in some things about sex ngl), unprotected p in v sex (don't try this at home), breeding kink (r is on the pill tho!), steve's Massive Meat Sceptre™️, hickies (and i mean lots of them. steve turns into an Artist™️ lmao), aftercare, morning wood, taking top-naked polaroid photos (it's more sweet than sexual tbh) ~ lemme know if i missed anything! <3

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

Itty Bitty Pretty

You sighed in relief as you crossed the street, somewhat finding a sense of comfort after such a shitty day once you saw the familiar green and orange sign of Family Video—more so, the people you were about to see once you got inside.

Balancing the two boxes of baked goods in one hand, you pulled the door open, quickly noticing the silence of the still broken bell. You rolled your eyes. It had been like that for almost a month now, obvious proof of Keith being too cheap to get something so little fixed.

Entering the premises, you heard Steve first before you even saw him.

"I love boobies—hell, everyone loves boobies more, Robin, it's just facts."

You felt your cheeks warm at your boyfriend's words.

In the six months you've been with Steve—and a few months more of knowing him—he had never been shy when it came to anything remotely sexual. It was expected, you supposed, for someone formerly called King Steve, known to have gone around, leaving girls satisfied enough to share stories and to deem him worthy for them to sing his praises.

Said stories that had been proven true to you by His Majesty himself quite recently.

But still, it never failed to surprise you how loud and open Steve can be when talking about anything sex-related.

Because you, on the other hand, couldn't be more opposite of him.

You wouldn't exactly class yourself as a prude, you were just shy. You simply had a hard time speaking about sexual things out in the open, let alone, loudly in public.

Perhaps it came with the fact that you were inexperienced, that you weren't familiar enough with sex yet to be able to talk about it with confidence and prowess. Maybe, the more you got into it, you'd eventually come out of your shell.

Or perhaps it would simply be a shyness you wouldn't be able to shake off. Maybe you just weren't the kiss-and-tell type of person.

Sure, you talk to Steve about it, but that should be expected and important, him being your partner and all. But the furthest you'd gone to sharing your sexual encounters—which frankly, wasn't a lot and was always disclosed in so little details—was to Robin.

That's it.

Craning your neck, you finally saw that familiar mass of hair sticking out of one of the shelves. But as you were about to walk over to them, Steve's next words froze you on your spot.

"Especially when they're big, round, voluptuous breasts o—"

Oh.

Thwack.

"Ew! Don't be a pig!" Robin interrupted.

"How am I being a pig?!" Steve shrieked. "Right, curse a guy for liking boobs."

"I was just saying they're a bit overrated."

"Overrated?" he scoffed, sounding slightly offended. "You see it in magazines, in movies, on TV—you see boobies everywhere!"

"That's exactly why they're overrated!"

"No, no, it just means statistically, people like boobies more. The demand affects the supply."

"Statistically bullshit, that's what it is."

"Don't tell me you don't like seeing boobs now?"

"I still do!" Robin sighed. "But God forbid a girl wants to see a bit of ass here and there, right?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Steve hummed, and you could almost hear his smirk when he added, "Because there's only one ass I can get behind on."

"Gross!" Robin gagged, another thwack ringing in the air. "That's my best friend!"

"Yeah, and that's my girlfriend!" Steve countered, snorting. "Am I not allowed to appreciate my girl now?"

"Not when you're disclosing details of your sex life, which frankly, I've already heard enough of, sometimes literally," Robin shuddered, your whole face heating up at her words. You and Steve might or might not have gotten slightly busy in the backroom once twice. "Seriously, dude, you're corrupting her."

"I'm not!" Steve laughed, the lightness seeping into his tone. "Besides, I can't deny her if she wants a taste of the Harrington Special Sausa—Ow! Stop hitting me with that magazine!"

"Then stop being gross!"

"There's this thing called a joke, you should try it."

There was a beat of silence.

"Where did you even learn the word voluptuous, anyway?"

"Shut up, I know my big words," Steve scoffed, before grumbling, "I read a thesaurus the other day."

Robin burst out laughing.

"It was a slow day! Henderson left it on the counter and I got bored!"

If it was any other time, you would've found the interaction greatly amusing.

But once your brain picked up on those three words, the rest of their conversation had turned slightly muffled. Those three words simply sat at the forefront of your mind, and they hadn't stopped repeating themselves.

Big. Round. Voluptuous.

You didn't know if Steve meant that was what most people liked generally, or if it was a personal preference. But you did know one thing though:

Those words didn't apply to yours.

"Hey!"

You jumped, eyes wide when you met Steve's gaze, too distracted by your thoughts to even notice him walking up to you.

"You okay?" he asked, brows furrowed in concern, his hands coming up to rub your arms in comfort. "How long have you been standing there?"

"O-Oh, I just got here," you lied with a small smile. "And I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Mm-hmm." You nodded, lifting the boxes with a smile. "I brought you guys your favorites."

"You are a gift!" Robin appeared out of nowhere, taking the boxes from your hands with a loud, smacking kiss on your cheek. You giggled. She turned to Steve, sticking her tongue out before disappearing into the breakroom.

"Real mature!" Steve called out, playfully rolling his eyes. Turning back to you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, a smile on his lips, but the concern was still evident in his eyes. "Now, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is," you said, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips. Before Steve could even deepen the kiss—and judging by his tightening hold and his low groan, he was just about to—you placed a careful hand on his chest, pulling away. "Can I use the bathroom real quick?"

"Yeah, sur—"

You were gone before Steve could even finish his sentence.

The second the bathroom door closed, you peeked at your chest through the collar of your shirt, frowning when you found what you'd already known and been seeing for years.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, head tilted, lips pursed. It was a moment of weakness, grabbing your shirt from behind, pulling the fabric tight to your body only to feel even worse by what you saw.

It wasn't like they'd grown a few inches bigger in the last couple of seconds.

Running a frustrated hand over your face, you sighed, shoulders slumping, frown deepening as your heart ached.

You would think you'd grown a thick skin when it came to things about your breast size. After all, it felt like you'd already heard everything about it in school—from strangers to bullies and even sometimes, friends alike. Mean words in the guise of jokes ranging from, 'where are they?' to calling your chest a chopping board, saying how it's similar to hugging a wall, and so on.

It was ridiculous, truly, people needing to point it out as if you weren't already aware of it yourself, as if you didn't see it every single day, as if you weren't the one they're attached to.

Over time, you'd grown to live with it, reminding yourself that it was more a reflection of their character than it was of yours. Small boobs didn't make you less beautiful. If a person thought otherwise, then you honestly had no time for such shallow minds.

Besides, when someone had something to say about your breast size, insensitive words that would only make you feel insecure about yourself, and even sometimes, have the audacity to compare it to others, then it was more than enough of a reason to chuck them back into the trash. It was a good red-flag-detector if being honest.

Yet now, here you were again.

In your defense, Steve's words simply caught you at the wrong time. You weren't in the greatest mood before you even got here, energy already depleted from work, and a little cloud of sadness had already hung over you since this morning.

Then again, this was Steve.

His opinion mattered so much more to you than some bullies in school who had nothing good going on in their lives.

Granted, Steve had seen you fully naked before, but only once. And that was when you lost your virginity to him. Still, he never showed signs of not liking them, nor had he ever said anything mean about them, not even in a remotely joking way. If your memory serves you right, his eyes practically lit up when he saw them for the first time.

But also, Steve was a good guy. Maybe he did have a preference, he simply didn't outwardly say it to avoid making the wrong impression. Maybe, as bad as it sounds, he was simply settling for what he could get. But you were a people-pleaser—only with people who you cared most about, but still—you didn't want Steve to settle for less of what he preferred. You wanted to give him more of what he deserved.

So what then if you weren't able to give that to him? What then if what you have to offer would start not being enough? 

Or perhaps Steve meant absolutely nothing of it, that he truly didn't care about the size of your boobs. He might've grown up to be quite a shallow person—rich parents, campus heartthrob, star athlete, the King of all jocks, what'd you expect?—but that part of him was long gone now. The Steve you're with now was compassionate, selfless, kind, sweet, had the biggest heart, the most caring boyfriend you could ever ask for, a new and improved great man.

But that didn't stop your brain from thinking the worst.

After all, it was easier to latch onto the negative voices in our heads, no matter if it was true or not.

The next thing you knew, you'd already dug yourself into a hole, filling it up with your insecurities until you were drowning.

It got to a point where you'd been changing the way you were acting around Steve.

You did your best to be subtle, small changes to not make a big deal out of it, to avoid what could be quite an embarrassing conversation if it all comes out into the open.

Not that Steve would ever make you feel bad about your insecurities. He'd been the best at making you feel comfortable and safe about it so far. And there's been quite a considerable amount you'd shared with him. It was mostly involving stuff in the bedroom due to the difference between your skill levels, but still.

It was more, your own fear of being proven right. You were scared to find out that he, in fact, had a preference, and they were far from what you have.

And as the days went by, it was working—well, you thought it was. You simply forgot to put into account one thing:

Your boyfriend was the most attentive person in the world, and then some.

•••

Steve noticed how you'd been acting weird lately.

The first odd thing he encountered was a change in your hugs.

They weren't as tight nor did they last as long anymore. You probably thought he couldn't tell but this was your hugs we were talking about. Of course he could tell. It was as if you were keeping him an inch away now, so little to others but too goddamn far in Steve's opinion.

The second thing was your cuddles, which were mostly the same when it came to your hugs, an inch or two too far.

But whenever he would try to lay on top of you—which you disclosed you always loved, him being your very own warm, weighted blanket—you would always shift away, gently pushing him onto his back so you would be the one who'd lay on his chest. But even then, not quite. Because now, you only went as far as resting your head on his shoulder, arm loosely draped over his stomach with a literal space between you. If Steve could insert a piece of paper between you, then you were too goddamn far.

Something was wrong and it was making Steve worry.

The most he noticed the change, though, was when you two would have sex.

Of course, Steve had been making sure that you were going at your own pace. He had been the one who insisted on taking things slow because you were more inexperienced compared to him. There was no way in hell he'd make you feel pressured, would not even risk nudging you close to your boundaries.

He cared about you too much.

But it wasn't that.

You still had that eagerness in you, the same one that's always been present even before you finally did the deed, the same one that got dialed up after you got your taste. Steve could confidently say that you were just as needy, if not, needier for him than ever before.

The way you'd give him that look every chance you got, your fingers skating across his thigh whenever you'd go for a drive, the way you'd nose his jaw, kiss the back of his ear, your little tells he'd grown to memorize—it was more than enough proof you still wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

It was when his hands would so much as graze the hem of your shirt that he'd notice something. It would be a split second where you'd flinch, and then the second after that, you'd take his hands and interlace your fingers together.

At first, he thought you simply wanted to hold his hand during it, a gesture so intimate, so adorable, so sweet, something that was just so you. It made Steve's heart grow softer, his dick swelling a little bit harder.

But then it kept happening, again, and again, and again and only when his hands would come anywhere near the area around your chest.

Maybe you'd grown not to like being touched there anymore, which was perfectly and utterly fine with him.

Your comfort and safety were always a top priority before his own pleasure.

But his gut was telling him something was up, and so far, it never once had wronged him.

Other than that, and God he really didn't want to sound like such a guy, more or less, a whiny baby but—

Steve missed your boobs.

Sure, he'd only seen them once—and by 'seen them' he meant, in all their bare and gorgeous glory—but once was more than enough to have him already obsessed.

Besides, Steve liked to think he had a photographic memory—well, when it came to you, anyway.

But recently, you'd been adamant about keeping your shirt on whenever you two got on with it.

Okay, there were other factors as to why that could be.

His parents were home for the week, and Steve had been avoiding the place like the plague. Waking up early to coming home late to avoid crossing paths with either of them. He could sneak you in, but Steve would rather not deal with the scrutiny of his asshole father and risk having you get caught in the crossfire. Besides, your schedule at the bakery and his hours at Family Video did not coincide. It would end with Steve leaving you in his room early in the morning and he would never let you face his parents alone.

Your own house was a no-go with how nosily toxic your mother was when it came to your privacy. A closed door warranted entering without as much as a knock, what more, a locked one? With what you'd told Steve about her so far, he wouldn't be surprised if she kept a spare key to your room in her pocket at all times.

It was why you'd been taking extra shifts to save enough money so you could finally move out of the place. And secretly, Steve had been doing the same in the hopes that you two could move in together—if you wanted to, of course.

Premature? Probably. After all, you'd only been together for half a year. But Steve would do anything to make you happy and keep you safe. And if that meant helping you out of that house quicker? Then moving too fast be damned. Hell, if it was up to him, he'd already be paying half the rent of an apartment even if he was giving you the whole place to yourself.

Head over heels? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Besides, if you know, you know.

But the point was—and Steve's a bit embarrassed to admit this purely because you deserved so much better—you mostly had only done quickies in the backseat of his car. So there hadn't been enough time for the both of you to get fully naked.

Steve hadn't had the chance again to take all the time and properly shower you with affection, praise, and—he had yet to say this out loud but it always burned in his heart every time he looked at you—the love that you rightfully deserved.

But still, there was a nagging voice in the back of his head saying that something was stopping you from baring yourself to him again.

Obviously, not seeing your boobs for a while wasn't the end of the world—it was in Steve's, to be completely honest—but it was worrying him that he might've done something that made you feel uncomfortable and he didn't catch it during the moment. Even worse if he'd let it simmer for days without doing anything to reassure it.

But Steve was sure he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, hadn't changed anything at all, much less tried something you two hadn't done before. You didn't have any trouble letting him know about things you didn't like, either. Even then, you were such an open book, expressive. Whatever you were feeling, Steve could usually tell right away with one look at your face—a purse of your lips, a scrunch of your nose, a crinkle between your brows, a twinkle in your eyes.

He was also confident enough in the fact that you were comfortable around him already. He'd not been short at reassuring you that you could tell him anything.

So maybe it wasn't a big deal.

Until it happened again.

•••

It's been absolute bliss.

The house was left to Steve once again, and obviously, he'd taken advantage of the empty space right away.

It's even more bliss that this wonderful Sunday was both your days off.

You slept over last night, and Steve had woken up to the sight of your beautiful face in the morning. It was made even better when you two got to sleep in, staying in bed for longer with no rush getting up. You made out for what felt like hours, lips numb but hearts warmer. The only reason you stopped was because you got hungry to the point where Steve managed to hear your stomach grumbling.

It was almost domestic bliss when the two of you tried to cook brunch together. Huge emphasis on tried. Because when Steve ended up eating something on the kitchen counter that wasn't particularly food—it was the best dessert, though—you two decided to order pizza instead.

Now, you'd both agreed on a lazy afternoon, huddled up in Steve's bed, warm blankets, warmer bodies, planning on burning through whatever VHS tape he had at your disposal.

The movie was barely even out of its sleeve and it was already long forgotten.

Because it was absolutely fucking bliss having you sat prettily on his lap, whining and moaning as you rubbed your barely clothed cunt over his hard cock that was hidden underneath his boxers.

"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, throwing his head back against the headboard when you started to add a little bounce to your movement.

Steve was letting you have your fun, to see what it was like being on top since it was one of the many things you hadn't done before.

Most people call it teaching, Some call it training, others call it corrupting.

You called it practice.

Steve liked that better.

And as always, it was at your own pace, slow and careful, sometimes nervous, but definitely absolute fucking torture.

It was like you were teasing him, bringing him oh so close only for your hips to stutter and unfortunately, stop for a few seconds, wiggle on your seat with a whine for a couple more, before starting up again.

You were honestly edging him to the brink of insanity.

The catch? You weren't doing it on purpose.

You were practicing, after all, testing out the angles, which direction to circle your hips, if grinding or bouncing was better, and how hard it was you needed to press yourself on him. You were trying to work out what feels good for you and—like the angel that you are—what feels good for him too.

But fuck, and not to toot his own horn, but Steve genuinely admired his patience. Because the number of times he had to stop himself from flipping you over and fucking you into next week was far too many to even count.

Steve didn't know how long you'd been humping him, using him for your own (and his) pleasure like he was your personal toy. But judging by how fucking wet you were, so much to the point that you'd already soaked through your panties and his boxers—it was long enough.

He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you away from where you'd been hiding your face on his shoulder and bringing you in for a bruising kiss.

Licking into your mouth, he started rutting his hips up to meet yours, his grip on your ass tightening when he felt the vibrations of your moan against his lips. One particularly hard thrust had you pulling away with a gasp.

He didn't let you get too far as his firm hand gripped your jaw. Tilting your head to the side, his mouth was quick to attach to your warm skin, kissing, nibbling, sucking, trailing further down, in need to taste more.

Steve groaned in frustration when his lips met the collar of the oversized shirt you wore.

"Need this off, baby," he whispered, fingers carefully tugging at the hem.

And just like before, you froze.

He didn't even need to ask where your hands were going when you removed them from his shoulders. Because in the next second, your fingers were already intertwined with his.

"Can I keep it on?" you asked, tone shy, smile soft, but your eyes—there were hints of worry in them, maybe even fear.

Steve sighed, bringing your hands up to his lips, kissing each knuckle to the insides of your wrists. He placed each of your palms flat against his cheeks as his fingers curled around your hips. He looked at you knowingly, his smile all the more reassuring as his thumb rubbed comforting circles over your clothed waist.

"Wanna tell me what's up?"

The way you averted your eyes was enough to confirm that something was definitely going on.

"What do you mean?"

"Baby, I know we've only had sex a handful of times," he said, tilting his head. "But that doesn't mean I don't notice that something's changed."

You frowned at that, hands falling to rest on your lap before you started picking at your nails. Steve was quick to cover them with his own, stopping your nervous fiddling with a reassuring squeeze.

"It's just—" You scrunched up your face, shaking your head before you hung it low, grumbling, "It's nothing."

Steve frowned. "Doesn't seem like it's nothing."

"It's stupid," you breathed out.

"Hey, it's definitely not if it's bothering you," he reassured, dipping his head to try and catch your gaze. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

There was a moment of silence, but Steve could see that you were thinking about it. So he waited, hands squeezing yours from time to time, making you aware that he was here, and you could talk to him, but also, there was no rush.

"I—" A deep breath, before you continued, "I overheard you and Robin talking about a week and a half ago about, uhm..." you paused, eyes everywhere else but on him. "Boobies."

Steve blushed.

"God, did I really sound like such a pig?" he asked with an embarrassed smile. Though, if you were acting this way because of what you heard, then maybe he did sound like such a pig and it made you feel uncomfortable enough to change your habits. "Sweetheart, I swear, it's nothing like that, I was just—"

You shook your head fervently. "No, no, It's not that—well, not really."

Confusion filled him up then.

"Then, what's wrong?"

"You said you love boobs—"

"I mean, yeah." He smiled at you sheepishly, and there was no doubt his cheeks were as red as they were going to get.

"But you love…" your voice dropped to a whisper, "Certain types of boobs."

Steve's brows furrowed. "I don't think I understand."

Okay, he might seem a tad bit slow here. But in his defense, he couldn't find fault in loving boobies. It was normal, right? He was a man, after all. Even then, everyone loves them.

So, what was wrong with it?

As if you read his mind, you spoke up, "There's nothing wrong with liking boobs, obviously. But mine aren't like, you know," you sighed, waving your hands. "They don't look like the ones in the movies or-or, magazines and stuff."

"Yeah...they don't," Steve slowly agreed. It was something he already knew, obviously. He'd seen your boobs and he'd also seen the ones on screen. There was a difference. But still, what was wrong with that? "I still don't see what the problem is here, sweetheart."

"Mine's—" you groaned, eyes screwed shut, your frustration obvious. Then, your whole body deflated, voice defeated as you gestured at your chest,

"There's not much there."

It took Steve a moment.

Mainly because he thought, in pure honesty, your boobs were perfect.

It took him a moment to grasp the fact that they were perfect only to him, and that you didn't share the same thought. You didn't view them as such.

It also took him a moment trying to remember what his exact words were, mind a bit fuzzy about the things he'd said that you might've taken the wrong way.

Then it hit him.

"Especially when they're big, round, voluptuous breasts o—"

Oh.

"You think I won't like your boobs because they're on…the smaller side?"

You nodded, pouting as you let out a shaky breath, body slumping as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck.

"Hey, nuh uh, look at me," he said softly, gently pulling you away from your hiding spot. He held your face in his hands, heart aching when he saw your glossed-up eyes, tears threatening to spill as you bit your bottom lip to stop them from trembling. Steve asked worriedly, "Did I make you feel that way?"

He silently cursed Robin for interrupting him that day. Because if she hadn't, then Steve would've been able to list other traits of boobs he liked which would've been the opposite of what he had said. He would've been able to continue the or part. 

But most importantly, he would've been able to rave about how yours were his favorite of them all.

"N-No, uhm, not really. But when I heard you say what you said I just thought, you know, you'd like them better if they looked like…uhm, the way you described or similar to the movies or just—" you paused, taking a deep, shaky breath before finally saying, "Typically, guys just like it when they're…bigger."

Steve frowned.

That couldn't have been farther from the truth—to him, at least.

You misunderstood what he had said. Then again, he hadn't been great at wording it, either, nor did he get to say his whole piece.

Because Steve did love boobies, but not bigger boobies, not smaller boobies, just...boobies. He honestly couldn't care less what shape or size they were, as long as he gets to see boobies, then he's a happy guy.

The happiest when it's yours, though.

"First off, and I don't want to sound cliché here, but I'm not like your typical guy," he said, his smile teasing yet soft as he took your hands in his. "Second, when I said, I love boobies, I meant, all boobies, doesn't matter to me what size they are. Robin just didn't let me finish my sentence. If she had, I would've ranted about how much I fucking love your boobies and I would've gotten smacked with a magazine more."

You cracked a smile, though Steve felt his heart pang when it was gone only a second later.

It was obvious you didn't believe him.

"I mean it," he added. "I'm not just saying this just because."

"No, I know, it's just," you sighed, frown deep, eyes trained on your intertwined hands. "You said it yourself, Steve, how most people like what they see on screen, you included. And mine are just—they look nothing like them."

"Okay, yeah, the ones they show in the movies or on TV or magazines, a lot of them look bigger and rounder, whatever. That doesn't automatically mean they're better or prettier, definitely not compared to yours. Boobies are boobies, they all come in different shapes and sizes and they're all pretty. Any guy should feel lucky to even just get the chance to just see them," he sincerely said, hands cupping your face, thumb caressing your cheeks to urge you to look at him. He smiled brightly when you did. "And yours? Yours just happen to be the prettiest in my eyes."

Your bottom lip went, voice soft and a little shaky, "You're just saying that."

Steve shook his head, kissing your pout away before giving you a genuine smile. "I honestly think you have no idea how obsessed I am with your boobs."

"You're not," you insisted, head dipping to try and hide again. But Steve gently kept you in place, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"Oh, but I am, you want to know why?" It was rhetoric, you knew it was. But still, you nodded shyly, and Steve immediately delivered, "One, because they're genuinely so pretty to me. And two, they're yours. They're attached to the person who I'm honestly so head over heels for. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and that doesn't change when it comes to your boobs."

You looked at him for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips as you sniffled, and then, a soft giggle, "That's weirdly romantic."

"Look who you're talking to, babe, weirdly romantic is my thing," he scoffed, teasingly rolling his eyes, his heart melting when you giggled again, much louder this time. But still, he could see that the apprehension didn't leave your eyes. "I wished you believed me though."

You sighed, your smile turning small, apologetic.

"Hey, it's okay. We all have insecurities, and they don't just go away overnight," he quickly reassured you before you could even think to say sorry. "But, for what it's worth, I'm going to keep telling you how pretty they are until it sticks."

You nodded, leaning closer to kiss him warmly, sweetly, before whispering against his lips, "It's worth a lot."

Steve hummed, thumb caressing your jaw as he tilted his head, kissing you a little deeper.

"I'm sorry I made you think that way, sweetheart," he said once he pulled away.

"It's okay," you hummed, brushing your lips against his with a small, reassuring smile. "You didn't mean to."

"How about I show you how much I'm obsessed with them?" he suggested, kissing the tip of your nose, once more on your forehead, and lastly, adoringly, on your lips, hands rubbing your arms affectionately. "If you'll let me."

Steve would've happily obliged if you had refused. And he thought you were just about to when you leaned back, putting some space between you both.

But then, you started playing with the hem of your shirt, pulling it up an inch or two before stopping.

"Baby, there's no pressure," he said, squeezing your thighs. "You can keep it on, I won't mind."

But you shook your head, silently saying it wasn't that. And then, you asked,

"Can you close your eyes first, please?"

Steve did so without question.

He felt you shift slightly on his lap, his thumbs caressing soft circles on your bare thighs. There was a pause, then a nervous breath. Steve ran his palms up and down your skin to reassure you. A second later, he heard the rustling of your shirt, shortly after, the sound of the fabric landing on the floor.

His grip tightened.

Still, he kept his eyes shut, waiting with bated breath.

Steve heard you sigh, and then ever so gently, you took his hands, warm palms close together, his thumbs instinctively drawing circles on your skin. Squeezing, you said,

"You can open your eyes now."

With a deep breath, he did, following your instruction carefully as he kept his gaze on your face.

You said he could open his eyes, you didn't say he could look yet.

Besides, the nerves were evident on your features—teeth gnawing at your bottom lip, eyes on his only fleetingly before looking away—that he didn't want to push you too far, too fast.

Steve was going to do his absolute best to make you feel as safe and comfortable as possible in his presence. And small, careful steps were usually the best way to go about it.

"Whenever you're ready," he whispered, squeezing your hand.

Only when you gave him a small nod of consent did he look down and—

Steve involuntarily moaned at the sight of them, his cock twitching in his boxers, a fresh bead of precum pooling at the tip.

Fuck.

Even he didn't know that he missed them this badly.

"Kinda hate you for denying me of this pretty sight for too fucking long now," he grumbled, no heat in his tone, even when he shot you a teasing glare. His heart quickened as he let his eyes drink up more of the absolute beauty that sat before him. "I mean, look at them."

"Sorry," you murmured, smiling shyly, body slowly relaxing under his gaze. Your fingers loosened around his before you took his hands and placed them on your bare waist, skin to skin. And fuck, you were so warm to the touch it was making his chest burn.

Steve smiled affectionately when you wrapped your nimble fingers around his wrists, slowly pushing his hands up and up, stopping just on your ribs. With a smile, you let him go, as if you were handing him all your trust from now on.

The thought made his heart skip.

"S'okay, baby," he breathed out, thumbs skimming just underneath the swell of your breasts, so close, but not touching. Not yet. "You're letting me see now. That's more than making it up for it."

"Do you really like them?" you asked timidly, a little worried.

"Like them?" Steve scoffed, slightly offended. "I'm fucking in love with them."

You grew even shier at that but didn't do anything to cover up. If anything, he saw your shoulders fully relax, back arching towards him slightly, a little more confident.

Steve took that as a good sign.

"Can I touch?"

"Yeah," you sighed, biting at your bottom lip, nodding, whispering out a soft, "Want you to feel them."

Fuck.

You were going to be the death of him.

Which would probably happen any second now judging by how much you were already killing him when you've done absolutely nothing.

So Steve didn't waste any more time.

He lightly ran his fingers over them, carefully at first. He couldn't help but revel in the way you shivered, adding a little pressure when you started leaning closer to him, needing more.

"Beautiful," he gushed, running his thumb over your nipples, groaning when they started to harden under his touch. "Gorgeous." He covered them with his palms, his breath hitching when they felt perfect in his hold just like he remembered they would, his fingers squeezing, kneading them delicately. "So fucking pretty."

"Steve," you sighed, your eyes fluttering shut, head lolling to the side. You absentmindedly arched your back, pressing onto him more, your hands on his shoulders to help steady yourself.

"Can't believe you dared to talk badly about my babies."

You snorted, eyebrow raised when you looked at him again. "Your babies?"

"Yeah, well, since you don't like them and aren't showing them the love they deserve, I'm going to do it myself. So, they're mine now," he teased, leaning forward. But before he could let his lips touch your skin, he stopped. "Wait, hold on."

He reached over his bedside table, rummaging around his drawer until his fingers felt the familiar, thin, metal frames. He put them on, quickly turning back to you.

"Okay, how the fuck," Steve gasped, hands going back to where they were before, where he was sure they belonged, holding your beautiful boobs. He looked up to meet your confused gaze, his mouth open, eyes widening a tad bit more for extra dramatics as he gushed, "They got even prettier!"

You threw your head back, laughing that lovely laugh of yours, and his heart might as well have jumped out of his chest and landed on the palm of your hand.

Steve was sure it did.

"You're too much," you said, giggling, pushing back the hairs that landed on his forehead before adjusting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"You're too much," he grumbled, slowly leaning closer. "Can't fucking handle how gorgeous you are."

You shook your head, laughing when he all but smushed his face on your chest.

"God I missed you," he whispered against your boob, earning another giggle from you, the sound replaced with a gasp when he started mouthing around it, suckling gently on the warm flesh. His kisses moved across the valley to show the other one affection as well. "And you, obviously."

"Think they missed you too," you hummed, breath hitching when he swirled his tongue over your nipple, fingers playing with your other boob. He made sure to be overly generous with his kisses, light and affectionate to fervently hungry, leaving marks on his wake, groaning in response to your sweet moan.

"And of course—" He pulled away after a moment, cupping the back of your neck, smiling brightly as he met your eyes. "I missed you."

You shook your head, leaning forward to kiss him, only to stop when you nudged his glasses, making them sit wonkily on his face. He groaned, taking them off and placing them back on his bedside table.

"But I like them on you," you complained, pouting.

"I don't know if that's a new kink I've unlocked," he teased, bringing you back into him, grinning once his lips touched yours. "But I'd rather not poke your eye out."

You giggled against the kiss, shaking your head, "You said you missed me?"

"So fucking bad," he sighed, licking into your mouth only for you to pull away slightly.

"But we've been together the whole day," you hummed, eyes twinkling, your breath fanning over his lips.

"And?" he grumbled, holding your face still with his fingers, gently pressing your cheeks together until your lips were forming a small O. "Now will you please let me fucking kiss you properly?"

You nodded, eyes crinkling as you laughed.

Steve lurched forward, tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, chuckling when you squeaked.

It didn't take long for your lips to fall into a rhythm, his tongue dancing with yours, coaxing sighs and pretty little whines. His fingers wandered up your waist until he was cupping a boob in each hand. You sighed into the kiss, moaning when he started circling your nipples with his thumbs. You pulled away with a gasp when he pinched them lightly.

Steve kissed your jaw then, trailing down your neck, nipping at the spots that had you whimpering against him. His hands continued their ministrations, featherlight, teasing touches to one with a firmer grip, a different one for each boob as his lips reached your collarbone.

Looking at you through his lashes, he took your tit in his mouth, covering as much as he could. Then, he started sucking.

Your hand flew onto the back of his head, mewling loudly as you tangled your fingers into his hair. His eyes fluttered close, groaning when you pulled at his strands, getting a moan in response when you felt the vibrations of his sounds. One hand on your ass, the free one groped your other boob, rolling your nipple between his fingers, making sure it was getting the love it deserved, too.

Your hips bucked against his when he started swirling his tongue around your nipple, flicking the hard nub before pulling away with a pop. Steve teasingly blew cold air on your wet skin, chuckling when you shivered before he switched sides. 

His free hand found your hip, encouraging you to move, growling into your skin when you started grinding on him at a steady pace.

It was overwhelming.

The sensation of having your clothed cunt rubbing over his hard cock paired with the feeling of your warm tit in his mouth, it was quickly rushing to his head.

Carefully, gently, he rolled your nipple between his lips, lightly tugging it with his teeth.

Your body lurched forward with a squeak, stuttering his name out when he soothed it with his tongue. Arms tightly wounding around his shoulders, you rested your chin on top of his head, unknowingly smothering him closer to your chest.

And Steve was in fucking heaven.

He didn't know how long he was making out with your tits, fingers playing with the other that wasn't in his mouth.

But fuck, he didn't want to stop.

Not when you were making the prettiest sounds for him, your whole chest vibrating with each loud moan, each whimper and whine, spluttering his name over and over, the only broken record he'd beg to listen to.

Not when you'd press harder against his cock, nails digging into his shoulders in a deliciously painful way, fingers tugging at his hair, writhing on his lap as he mouthed and groped and sucked, licking and pinching—switch and repeat.

He was humming in satisfaction like he was licking up ice cream on a hot summer's day. He was muttering against your skin like he was praying in a church, whispering all the sweet praises of how beautiful they were. Or you could say he was confessing all his sins as he groaned absolute obscenities of the things he wanted to do to them—like using them as a canvas for something that wasn't paint.

Steve didn't know how long he spent pressed against your chest. But honestly, he didn't fucking care.

And he would've gone on for even longer if you hadn't gently tapped his cheek, three times, signaling him to stop.

He let go with a soft pop, a string of his spit connecting your nipple and his lips, your skin glistening from the wetness.

Steve's dick twitched at the sight.

Blinking away the haze, he looked at you with dark eyes, his chest heaving, voice hoarse, "What's wrong?"

You didn't say anything. Instead, you took his hand and guided it between your legs.

Steve chuckled darkly, gently tugging his wrist off your hold, placing his palm flat on your thigh, squeezing in warning, "Sweetheart, we've talked about this."

"Hurts," you whined, forehead landing on his shoulder as your hips jerked forward. 

"Aww no, your pussy hurts?" he cooed, cupping your face and urging you to look at him. And as he expected, your pout was already in full play when he met your wide, doe eyes. He mocked the gesture, jutting his lip out. "It's not getting enough attention?"

"No," you breathed out, shaking your head, blinking at him innocently. 

"Then ask."

Your shoulders slumped slightly, pout turning more prominent. But then, you leaned closer, brushing the tip of your nose with his adorably, your eyes darkening as you so sweetly asked,

"Need your fingers please, Stevie."

How could he say no to that?

"See, that wasn't so hard," he hummed appreciatively, one hand on your cheek, tilting your head for a kiss as the other moved to cup your heat.

Steve moaned.

Because holy fucking shit you were throbbing. He could actually feel your clit pulsating against his palm.

"You enjoyed that so much, huh?" he hummed against your lips, swallowing your lewd moan as he pressed his thumb on your swollen bud. "Like it when I suck on your tits, don't you, baby?"

You nodded in haste, eyes shut tight, panting against his lips as you moved against his finger yourself. You were unconsciously doing the work as he kept his hand still, too impatient to realize, so desperately needy to care.

It was adorable.

"Oh yeah you do," Steve chuckled, moving to flatten his palm against your heat, squeezing. Your hips stuttered to a stop with a choked moan. He pushed your soaked underwear to the side, teasing his finger into your hole only to throw his head back with a groan, "Jesus Christ, you're fucking dripping."

"S-Steve," you mewled, looking like you were so close to tears if he didn't do anything soon.

He was almost tempted to.

"I know, pretty girl, I know," he hummed, turning his head to kiss your temple before inserting two fingers into your weeping hole, sliding in so easily. "Shit, there you go."

He couldn't stop his chuckle when you didn't even wait for him to move his hand. Despite it being slightly unsure—this was your first time taking his fingers this way, after all—the neediness was evident as you rocked your hips against his digits.

"So desperate," he hummed, free hands cupping your tit, rolling his palm over your nipple which had you keening against him. "I mean, look at you, so needy, so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers."

"Steve," you moaned, eyes screwed shut as your forehead landed on his. "O-One more."

He felt his head spin.

You'd only ever done two before.

"Yeah?" He curled his fingers, grinning when he earned a whine. "Sure you can take it?"

"Y-Yeah," you whimpered, nodding repeatedly. "I can take it, p-please, Stevie, n-need more, please."

He could never say no when you beg him like that.

"Okay, okay, now stay still."

Steve gave you what you wanted, your grip on his shoulders vice-like, moans short and breathy as he slowly eased another finger into you. He grabbed your ass with his free hand, squeezing, urging you to move.

You managed to grind on it once, twice, five times. But when Steve curled his fingers, you clenched around it hard, your hips suddenly stuttering, legs twitching, head thrown back as loud, broken moans spilled out of your lips.

Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he watched you fall apart before him, a wave of arousal gushing out of you, coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm.

You came out of nowhere and it caught you both off guard.

"Shit—fuck," you choked out a sob, forehead on his, eyes teary. "S-Steve, Steve."

"It's okay, you're okay, just ride it out," he cooed, aiding you through your orgasm with gentle strokes, whispering over and over, "That's it, I got you, did so, so good."

He stopped when you shook your head, thighs tightening around his hand, whimpering when he slowly pulled his fingers out. He brought them into his mouth, sucking them clean with a content hum, your half-lidded, curious eyes blinking at him.

"Maybe what you eat does affect it," he hummed, smacking his lips. "Tastes like watermelon."

He chuckled when you whined, hiding your face against the crook of his neck as your arms snaked around his shoulders.

He turned his head slightly, rubbing his cheek on your temple as he murmured, "You good, sweetheart?"

"Didn't mean to," you whispered, your frown evident as you hugged him tighter.

"I know," he said, chuckling softly, hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. "It's okay. It happens, especially when it's just so good."

You nodded in agreement, giggling. You emerged out of your hiding spot, giving him chaste kisses on the lips as your hand traveled down. "Your turn?"

"Babe, wait—fuck," he groaned, hips involuntarily jutting up into your palm. He hastily pulled your hand away, shaking his head. He was going to bust too soon if you keep going. "I need to be inside you or I'm going to fucking lose it."

You nodded eagerly.

His grip on your waist tightened when you started lifting yourself off of him. He shook his head, smiling at you knowingly.

"Want you to ride me, baby," he hummed, hands gripping your waist, slowly pulling you closer and then pressing you down on his cock. He groaned, "Fuck, want to see all of you properly." 

Your eyes widened. "But I don't know how—"

"I'm going to teach you. I always do." He moved closer, brushing his lips against yours with a reassuring smile, hand cupping your cheek, thumb caressing the warm skin affectionately. "And you've been practicing. It's not much different with my fingers."

"But it is because you're going to feel it too," you said, always taking him into account. Such a sweet girl. "What if I'm going to be bad at it?"

"You won't be," he reassured, kissing your jaw before pulling away to get a good look at you. "Because so far? You've been a goddamn natural."

You started nibbling on your bottom lip, so obviously thinking. And when your apprehension didn't lessen, he quickly added with a warm smile, "Hey, no pressure. You don't have to if—"

"No!" you protested a little too loudly. Steve bit his cheek to stop a smirk, his heart melting when your voice started to grow shy again, "I-I want to. It's just—"

You were nervous.

Steve could tell purely because you always got like this whenever you'd try something new. It wasn't so much that you didn't want to do it that was making you nervous, it was the fact that you did want to do it, but you want to do it well.

It was the people pleaser in you, or in this case, boyfriend pleaser. Or maybe it was the perfectionist. Either way, you always ended up being too hard on yourself.

Being inexperienced, you told him you didn't want to disappoint him, that you wanted to be able to please him just as, if not better compared to the ones before you. You wanted to be good enough for him, even though he'd already assured you countless times that nobody else could even come close to how you make him feel.

Nobody could ever hold a candle to you.

Besides, no one turned into an immediate sex god after the first time doing it. Much like everything else, it came with the eagerness to actually learn and enhance your skills or, in your words, practice. 

And yes, he was speaking from experience.

With that said, though, he also couldn't stop you if you so badly wanted to be good for him.

To be his good girl.

Steve's dick twitched at the thought.

If only you knew just how much you make him feel so good by doing so little.

Like now.

Squirming on his lap, thighs rubbing together, pouting all cute but your eyes darkened with lust, it was more than enough to make him feel a little dizzy.

It also gave him an idea.

"Want to practice some more by riding my thigh?"

The way your eyes widened yet twinkled, lips parting as you slowly blinked at him, sweet innocence laced with fervent hunger—Steve knew that look all too well.

"Yeah, you want that? Of course, you do. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at me when I wear my good old, school gym shorts, baby," he chuckled darkly, hands trailing up your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh before he hooked his fingers on the hem of your underwear. "Off."

You didn't need to be told twice.

The ruined fabric was thrown with the other clothes that littered across his bedroom floor. Spreading his legs slightly, he grabbed your hips, guiding you to straddle one thigh.

Your breath hitched as you sat on the muscle, Steve groaning at the mere feeling of your cunt, so warm and so fucking wet on his skin.

He leaned back against the headboard to get a good view. Taking your hands, he kissed the insides of your wrists before placing your palms flat on his chest, keeping you sitting upright, no more hiding.

And fuck, what a sight.

"So pretty," he gushed, running his hands up and down your forearms. You shook your head, eyelids screwing shut, face scrunched up. He tutted, "Hey, none of that. Let me see you, come on."

You opened your eyes with a pout, whimpering slightly when he flexed his thigh under you.

"You can move, baby," he hummed, nodding encouragingly.

The moan you let out at the first rock of your hips went straight to his dick.

"Fuck," he groaned, his grip around your wrists tightening slightly, absolutely taken by the way you were grinding on his thigh, his skin glistening more and more with each back and forth. "That's it, pretty girl—fuck, love it when you make a mess."

You moaned, hips moving even faster, head thrown back in pleasure. 

Steve's eyes fell on your chest, a deep groan vibrating in the back of his throat as he watched your tits move in sync with each snap of your hips.

He shook his head in awe, pushing himself off the headboard to wrap his arms around your torso, his mouth immediately attaching to your boob.

You lost your rhythm, hips faltering for a moment when he started suckling on your tit, fingers rolling the other.

He gripped your waist with one hand, guiding you back and forth, urging you to keep going. And you did, hands on his shoulders for support as you slowly gained back your momentum.

Steve switched sides, flicking his tongue on the hardened nub, wrapping his lips around it, sucking, moaning, and then going back to flicking. One hand groped your chest, and the other found your ass, digging his fingers into the flesh to aid your movements, flexing his thigh to meet your thrust.

You keened, gripping his shoulders so tight, surely leaving your own marks.

"Holy fuck," he groaned, forehead pressing against your chest as his gaze fell onto your cunt, loudly squelching and tightly squeezing on his thigh. "Can feel you fucking clenching, sweetheart."

"S-So good, feel so good, Stevie," you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair, guiding his face back onto your chest. "Please don't stop, want your mouth, please."

Steve growled and didn't even waste a second to do as you asked. 

And he was all over you.

Open mouth kisses to ones with tongue and teeth, his lips moving around the whole expanse of your chest, leaving calculated marks, making sure there was no space left untouched.

Both his hands were wandering your body, fingers scratching down your back, palms pawing at your ass, squeezing your thighs, hands running up your stomach to then grope at your breasts, just needing to feel every. single. inch. of your warm skin he could reach.

Steve was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time. He was so close to you, but not close enough.

Because he fucking needed to be inside you.

And the way you were pulsing against his thigh, clenching around nothing, coating his skin with your slick, it only made him even more desperate to feel that fucking cunt around his cock.

But you beat him to it before he could even ask.

"Stevie?" you whimpered, hips stuttering, slowing.

"Hmm?" He lifted his head from your chest, hand finding your jaw, stopping your head from lolling back so you could keep your gaze on him. It took you a moment to blink away the haze clouding your eyes, still gasping, still fucking his thigh. He hummed again, gripping your jaw tighter to get you to focus. "What'd you want?"

"N-Need more," you panted, eyes fluttering close. "Please."

"More what?" he returned, lightly tapping your ass.

Your hand immediately cupped his dick, squeezing, telling him exactly what you wanted.

Steve hissed, shaking his head, spanking you a little harder, making you whine. He warned, "Words, sweetheart, come on."

There was no hesitation this time.

"Want your cock now."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned, nodding before he tapped your thigh, urging you to lift yourself up so he could pull his boxers off, throwing them haphazardly on the floor.

Steve will never get tired of the look on your face every time you see his cock, hard and leaking just for you. 

"Come here," he hummed, snapping you out of your trance, offering both his hands to you. He sat you down on his stomach, knees on either side of him. "It's going to feel a little different than when you're lying down. So it's okay if you can't take it all the way right now. We stop if it gets too much."

You shook your head, brows furrowed, eager and determined. "I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, baby," he hummed, not doubting your drive to actually do it. But, he wasn't exactly the easiest size to take, especially not when it's your first time being on top. "But we need to go slow, okay?"

You nodded. He shot you a look.

"Okay."

"Good girl," he praised, pulling you in for a sweet, adoring kiss, a stark contrast to the sharp moan you let out at the pet name. He chuckled, tapping your thigh. "Now up."

You did as told, shuffling on your knees before sitting back, your ass resting on his thighs. You watched him patiently, wide doe-eyes twinkling with your hands on your lap, fiddling with your fingers as you waited for further instructions.

So fucking cute.

You innocently moved as he beckoned closer, signaling you to stop once you were hovering just over his throbbing length.

Then, he offered you his open palm, chuckling when you tilted your head, confused.

"Wet my hand for me?" he asked.

Your eyes widened in realization, nodding as you gently curled your fingers around his wrist.

Steve fully expected you to spit on it, maybe even lick it, just like the times he'd taught you before.

But then, catching him completely off guard. you guided it towards your pussy instead.

Steve moaned as you scooped up your slick for him, his hand now wet and glistening. He hissed as he wrapped it around his girth, moaning and shuddering as he moved fingers, giving himself relief after what felt like hours of being too fucking hard for comfort.

"You're adorable but fuck me you're a little devil too, huh?" he gasped, reveling in the way you were practically drooling as you watched him stroke himself, his hand gliding over his length so easily due to your cum. "It fucking drives me insane."

"Steve," you whined, teeth nibbling at your lip, thighs rubbing together.

He chuckled darkly, one hand finding your hip and urging you closer, holding his cock upright for you with the other.

"All yours, sweetheart."

You both moaned in each other's mouths the second his tip touched your entrance.

Perhaps it was a rookie mistake and you just didn't know any better. Or perhaps you were simply too eager and too drunk from lust that his fair warnings were all fogged up in your head. But all of a sudden, you pushed yourself down, way too fast.

You winced.

"Hey, easy," he reprimanded, gripping your hips to bring you to a stop, pulling you forward to sit you back on his stomach. "What did I just tell you?"

"S-Sorry, I just—want it so bad," you whimpered, absentmindedly dragging your cunt over his happy trail, soaking up the hairs with your slick.

Steve tried not to moan at the sight.

Another time.

"I know you do," he said, cupping your face, brushing his thumb under your eye. Your waterline was starting to fill up, a sign of your frustration Steve knew too well. "And you and I both know you're gonna get it no matter because you're my fucking spoiled girl, aren't you?"

You nodded, sniffling with a pout, "Yeah."

"So don't be greedy. You're gonna hurt yourself if you're impatient," he said firmly, tapping your thigh encouragingly, wrapping his fingers around his cock with a hiss as he held it up for you. "Now, go again, slowly."

You eagerly positioned yourself over his tip once more, hands gripping his shoulders for support. And then, you sunk on him, carefully this time, gentle, so fucking tight.

It was so hard for Steve to keep his eyes open, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched your cunt slowly but oh so sweetly wrap around his length.

"That's it, easy, sweetheart, t-that's it," he panted, muscles tensing as he forced his hips to stay planted on the mattress. "Taking me so so well, that's a good girl—fuck!"

You clenched around his tip with a choked moan, and goddammit you already felt like heaven and he wasn't even fully in yet.

"Okay?" Steve breathed out, chest heaving as he drew reassuring circles on your hips. 

"More."

He shook his head in disbelief, chuckling, "Then take more, sweetheart."

Steve swore sharply when you did, cunt fluttering as you sunk down on him further, your breathy moans fanning against his face as you rested your forehead against his.

Then you stopped, fingers digging into his shoulders, eyes screwing shut as you whimpered, "Steve, n-need—"

"I got you, baby, I got you," he hummed, licking his thumb before finding the swollen bud between your legs, rubbing gentle circles that had you keening.

A chorus of expletives spilled out of Steve's mouth as you opened up for him more, pretty pussy slowly taking him in inch by delicious inch, dripping so much that he could feel your warm slick coat him down to the base of his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you're so fucking tight," he moaned, eyes screwing shut, grunting when you clenched around him with a needy whimper.

He forced his eyes open, gaze dropping only to see that you'd taken more than half of his cock already. His grip on your waist tightened when he saw just how much of your cum was practically leaking on him, covering the tops of his curly hairs.

"Holy shit, baby, look how much you're soaking me," he gasped, rubbing your clit faster that made you gush over his dick some more. "Christ, you're so fucking wet."

"A-All for you, Stevie," you mewled, nosing his cheek. You tried to kiss him, only to end up yelping in his mouth when his hips involuntarily jerked at your words, sheathing more of himself into you.

His apology died in his throat, a guttural growl rumbling out of his lips instead when you sunk even further, burying his cock all the way inside until he was fully wrapped by your tight, heavenly walls.

Steve was sure he was seeing stars.

"Good?" he asked after taking a second to catch his breath, trying so hard not to move as he let you adjust. Arms wrapping around your form, he trailed soft kisses on your shoulder, moving to the side of your neck, up your cheek before kissing you. You sighed, lips languidly moving with his. Steve hummed, "How does it feel?"

"Bigger," you breathed against his mouth.

"That so?" he chuckled, hands rubbing up and down your naked back. It wasn't exactly what he was asking, but he didn't mind an ego stroke here and there. "How about you, baby? How are you feeling?"

"So so good," you whispered, shifting slightly but the movement was enough to make you let out a strained moan. "F-Full."

"Oh yeah?" He grinned smugly, playfully nibbling at your bottom lip before he asked, "You like it better like this?"

You shook your head, forehead resting against his as you pouted. "Please don't make me choose."

"I'm not," he chuckled, shifting his legs slightly before they fall asleep. You whined needily from the slight stimulation. He grinned. "Was just asking, sweetheart."

"C-Can't choose."

"Yeah? As long as my cock's inside this pretty pussy, doesn't matter how I give it to you, right?" he drawled, chuckling when your eyes widened, surprised by his words as if he wasn't balls deep inside of you. Then, you nodded shyly, adorably agreeing. He hummed, "Yeah, that's right, such a cockslut for me, my pretty little cockslut."

That made you shakily gasp.

But judging by the way your cunt practically gripped him like a vice, Steve knew you liked it.

"You can move whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he rasped when you started wriggling in your seat.

Like clockwork, your eyes turned big and round, all glossed up as you looked through his, your swollen bottom lip jutted out.

"Why are you pouting? You're the one who wanted my cock," he tutted, shaking his head. squeezing your waist. "So take it."

And take him you fucking did.

Steve practically felt the air leave his lungs when you moved.

"Just like you practiced, back and f-forth, fuck yes," he gasped, head thumping against the headboard as you built up a steady rhythm, panting, whining, moaning on top of him with each gyration of your hips. "Fuck, baby, that's it, so fucking good."

"S-So deep," you choked out, followed by a loud mewl when you experimentally started moving in slow circles.

"Fuck, I know," he groaned, hands on your hips, aiding your movement but not by any means controlling it. This was all about you, after all. "And you're taking it so well, aren't you?"

You nodded fervently.

"And why is that?"

"C-Cause I'm—" you paused with a long moan, eyes screwing you for a moment before they looked deep into his. "I'm your good girl."

"Fuck yeah, you are," Steve growled, hips jerking off the mattress, earning a high-pitched moan from you when he hit that sweet spot.

"Steve, please," you cried needily, begging for him to do it again.

"Why don't you try bouncing on my cock, sweetheart?" he suggested, hands splayed underneath your ass, squeezing.

You paused with a whimper, grabbing his shoulders before you started going up and down.

Steve almost choked on his own spit. "Jesus, just like that—holy fuck, baby."

It wasn't fast, nor was it too hard, actions still laced with hesitancy but my God, getting to watch you be so desperate to hit that spot inside you, moans broken up with each bounce was enough to have his mind reeling.

But before Steve could encourage you to go faster, you accidentally rose too far up, his cock slipping out.

You froze in panic.

What followed was immediate, the embarrassment, frustration and worry coating your entire being as your head dipped, your body slowly deflating. You leaned forward to hide, probably thinking that you'd ruined everything.

Steve knew your signs all too well.

It also helped that this had happened before, that every time you try something new and the littlest mishap would happen, you immediately would think that you'd done something wrong, that you'd disappointed him.

Like Steve had said, you were such a pleaser.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he rushed, quickly holding your face in his hands before you could have the chance to curl into him. Kissing away the tears that touched your cheek, he cooed, "Ssh, it's okay, you're okay, it happens."

"Sorr—"

"Don't, sweetheart," he cut you off, smiling, kissing the tip of your nose, your cheeks, a few more on your lips before he looked at you properly. "It's totally normal for it to slip out, especially when it's your first time—hell, even sometimes when you'd done it before. It happens."

"Really?" you sniffled, doe-eyes looking at him expectantly, pout in full play.

Fuck. 

He honestly didn't know that someone being adorable was enough to actually make his dick twitch.

Only you, he was sure of it.

"Really, really. You'll get the hang of it, don't worry," he reassured, kissing your frown away. Lightly tapping your ass, he teasingly added, "You should get back on your seat, babe, it's gonna get cold."

That managed to coax a giggle out of you, and Steve couldn't stop his proud smile. One that was quick to be wiped off by a sharp hiss when you wrapped your fingers around his length, guiding him back into your warm folds.

And it didn't take long for you to get the hang of it at all.

Because for the few months you'd been together, Steve was assured about one thing:

You were one hell of a fast learner.

"That's it, fuck yourself on my cock," he grunted, hands digging into your hips as you gradually bounced faster. "Fuck that pretty, wet cunt on my cock, baby—shit!"

Steve's eyes rolled back with a deep moan, when gripped him like a vice.

And Christ, the feeling of your ass slapping against his thighs, your cunt sinking and pulling at his cock as you bounced—

It was fucking heavenly.

He blinked away the haze, just so he could have a good look at you, and fuck yes what a gorgeous view.

Your skin was glistening with sweat, so hot to the touch but God, he couldn't get enough of the burn as he let his hands fondle every flesh he could reach. You look ethereal, and he swore on his life you were glowing.

Your brows were pinched together, eyes screwed shut as your bitten lips formed an O, shape pleasingly familiar, blessing him the prettiest sounds, moans filthy and needy yet so fucking lovely. And your tits, fuck, the way they moved with each snap of your hips was mesmerizing, his eyes unable to stop drinking up the enchanting poison, his mouth open with a little bit of drool.

Steve was in awe, dumbstruck, lovesick.

You looked like his fucking wet dream personified.

Better yet, you looked like the most sinful angel that's ever blessed this earth, let alone his world.

"You're so fucking gorgeous bouncing on my cock like t-this," he panted out, a low groan bubbling in his throat when he felt your walls squeeze him. "Looking like a goddamn angel I swear."

It was utter euphoria.

The pungent smell of sex in the air, the sound of your coupling echoing around his room, skin slapping against skin, the quiet creak of his bed with each fervent thrust, the lewdness of your squelching pussy around his cock.

All of it was married deliciously with the moans you were breathing down his neck, needy uh uh uh's, working in tandem with each whiny Steve, Steve, Steve.

He was letting out his own grunts and curses in response, throwing in sweet praises, mixing them with his filthy words that he knew made you squirm.

He gushed about how he fucking enjoyed opening you up with his huge cock, molding your tight cunt to fit him perfectly so that it would only ever feel full with his dick and his dick only.

That threw you off your rhythm.

"N-No," you sobbed, annoyed, your movements slowing as your legs quivered slightly.

Steve already knew what you wanted the second he felt your pout against his skin. Yet still, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"My legs are tired," you whispered shyly, sniffling.

"Aww no, your legs are tired?" he cooed, gripping your jaw to get you to look at him, copying your pout condescendingly. "Want me to take control?"

You nodded fervently, whining as you shifted. "Please."

Steve lifted his hips with no warning, your body lurching forward with a yelp as he planted his feet flat on the bed. Both your hands flew to grip the headboard behind him, caging his head between your biceps.

You moaned when he coaxed you to lean forward even more, his tip brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

He buried his face into your chest then, wrapping his arms securely around your waist to firmly hold you in place before he started to fuck into you upwards.

Moments like this were mere reminders of your boyfriend's strength, years of being a star athlete definitely paying off.

Because Steve was relentless.

Each thrust of his hips was hard and fast and so fucking deep it was almost as if his goal was to bruise your lungs front the inside. Your moans didn't even have the chance to finish spilling out of your mouth when you were immediately choking them back in, each stroke somewhat stretching you a little bit more.

And you? Oh, you were floating.

Your mind was fuzzy, no other thought except Steve and the front of his thick thighs slapping against your ass.

It was filthy yet exhilarating, the sticky feeling of your skin against his, a culmination of sweat and your mess from when you rode the muscle earlier. It was made obvious since one thigh was definitely much wetter than the other.

Your brain was starting to get muddled, head fucked empty except for Steve and his huge cock driving up into your cunt.

It was mind-numbing, how much you could feel every inch and every thick vein dragging up and down your walls, mushroom tip nudging that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling with a drawn-out moan.

If he thought you were an angel, then you thought Steve Harrington was a god.

Because it was the only explanation as to how he was able to keep up his pace, how his fervent thrusts never faltered, how each draw of his cock was a perfect stroke to your velvety canvas, all while his hands and mouth were busy at the same time.

He'd never given your boobs this much attention before, tongue laving at your hot skin before his lips curled around a nipple, making sure the other didn't feel neglected as he toyed it with his fingers.

But then again, you never truly gave him the chance to.

Your insecurities weren't going to be magically gone in a span of, well, however long you two had been going at it. But they surely were nonexistent in your head at the moment m—nothing existed in your head right now.

Only Steve who'd been insatiably sucking on your tits with all his heart's desire, groaning against your hot and wet skin as if it was the best treat he'd ever had in a while. His large, rough hands were gripping at every crevice of your body he could reach, wandering and needy and praising and hungry, no skin left untouched. Then combining everything with the way his massive cock was pounding up into you, reaching the spots inside of you only he could reach, opening you up, stretching you, so filthy, so delicious—

Steve Harrington was fucking you into your next life.

So you couldn't blame yourself for thinking he was god-like when it came to his skills in the bedroom. He'd proven it to you over and over again and somehow, outdoing himself every single time.

Although, the second he'd open his mouth?

Oh, you were speaking to the Devil himself.

"Such a tight fucking pussy," he grunted, his warm breath feathering across your wet tits, the contrast in temperature making you clench. "Shit–fuck baby, it's like she wants to marry my cock. She won't fucking let go."

You mewled, nails dragging down the thick, straggles of hair on his chest.

"Yeah?" he rasped, nodding as if he was agreeing to something you said when you didn't even say a single word. It was mean and patronizing, but oh does it make your head spin. "Your cunt does want to marry my cock, doesn't she, baby?"

"S-Steve, please," you pleaded, but having no clue what for, too fucked dumb to even try and figure it out.

"If she lets me fill her up so, so good then I might just say yes," he grunted, growling when you squeezed him with a whine. "Yeah? Want it, pretty girl?"

"P-Please, please, please." You nodded, gasping, whining, needing that fire inside you to be put out by that only thing you knew would be able to.

"Course you do," he panted, sucking harshly on one tit before pulling away with a pop. "You know, sometimes I imagine you're not on the pill."

You blinked rapidly, trying so hard to focus on his eyes, brown hues now close to black as you gasped against his mouth, "Y-You do?"

"Mm-hmm, know what that means, sweetheart?"

"I-I get p-pregnant?" you spluttered dumbly, nose nudging with his unintentionally, only due to the way you were bouncing with each snap of his hips. "You w-want me to get pregnant, Stevie?"

The growl he let out went straight to your core, pussy immediately responding by squeezing around his cock.

"Fuck yes," Steve moaned, holding you still by the back of your neck, trying to connect your lips together, unsuccessfully so when you merely exchanged salacious sounds into each other's mouths. It was getting harder to discern which moans and whines were whose. The rumbling growl was Steve's, though, "Gonna fill you up until you're nice and round for me."

You clenched around him, hard.

"Oh?" He grinned smugly, licking into your mouth, pulling away with a groan, "Want to carry my babies for me, sweetheart?"

You whimpered, eyes closing, response a little shy but still, you nodded.

It made Steve go absolutely feral.

You didn't know if it was even possible for him to go any faster than the pace he'd set.

But oh he did.

You shrieked at the brutal shift, one hand clawing at his shoulder as your palm slammed against the headboard, stopping yourself from lurching forward and banging your head on the wood. You pressed your forehead against his, mewling brokenly as you felt the knot in your stomach twist at a rapid pace.

"S-Steve, Stev–fuck, I-I'm cl—Steve."

"You're what, baby?" he panted, growling as he started dragging your hips down to meet his. "Go on, finish your sentence."

You shook your head, overwhelmed-tears pooling in your eyes. "Want–shit, I n-need to c—"

"Aww no, am I interrupting you?" he cooed in fake sympathy, pouting at you. "Want me to slow down so you can talk?"

"N-No!" you choked out a sob, whimpering, nails digging into his shoulder blades, moaning filthily before you finally breathed out, "Close."

"I know, I know," he hummed, his head thumping against the headboard with a sharp hiss, watching where your cunt was swallowing him in and spitting him out, over and over and wetter with hooded eyes. "Cunt's squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Taking me so fucking well like the good pussy that she is."

"S-Stevie, please."

He nodded slowly, eyes flitting up to meet yours.

"Touch yourself for me."

You didn't hesitate.

Your hand left the headboard, trembling fingers immediately finding your clit, gasping at how wet it already was.

Steve instinctively held you up with his arms when you let go of your support, mouth widening with a moan as his eyes watched your fingers carefully stroke the swollen bud, his cock keeping the same steady yet unforgiving pace.

"That's it, fuck, such a needy, pretty girl playing with herself," he praised, eyes snapping up to meet your barely open ones when you pleadingly moaned out his name, choking and blubbering out desperate please, please, please. He nodded, commanding, "Go on, cum."

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your whole body tensing up as the coil in your stomach snapped. Your legs quivered, toes curling reflexively, your gushing cunt clamping down on Steve's cock.

"Shit, shit, shit," he groaned loudly, followed by a whine as his hips stuttered. "That's it–fuck! That's a good fucking girl, milking my cock so fucking well."

Steve didn't help you ride out your orgasm because he didn't stop.

If anything, he picked up the pace.

"S-Steve," you choked out, shaking your head, too sensitive, too overwhelmed, a sob escaping your mouth and into his, body twitching from the overstimulation.

"Sssh, I know, I know," he whispered, grunting, whining, holding you steady with both arms around you as he chased his own high. "Few more, baby, just a few more."

Your head moved. You were trying to nod yes, but you didn't know what exactly you were doing, too fucked out of your mind, literally almost. And it seemed it wasn't clear for Steve, either.

"Can you do that, sweetheart?" he asked, choking out a moan when you nodded eagerly this time, whining out an audible enough yes, always willing to please him. "Yeah–fuck almost there. You're so so good to me, baby, such a good girl—my good girl."

You moaned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, forehead pressed against his as you tried your best to keep your eyes open, watching your beautiful man chase his pleasure. You held onto him tighter, and then, with the strength you had left, you started bouncing to meet his thrusts.

"Y/N—fuck!" Steve cried out with a high-pitched whine, whimpering and moaning against your mouth as his hips stuttered. "K-Killing me, baby, you're killing me—shit! M'gonna fucking come."

You never understood why Steve insisted on hearing you during sex at first, scolding you whenever you'd hold back, always encouraging you to be as loud as you pleased.

Not until the first time you heard him let go, mouth flowing with his filthy, crude words, mixing with the sounds of his whines and whimpers, his high-pitched moans to his deep guttural growls—it was an otherworldly experience.

You'll never get tired of hearing it.

"Gonna fill you up, baby, a-and you're gonna take it l-like a good girl—shit, m'gonna come, gonna come, gonna come," he whined over and over and needier and louder, hips thrusting up into you, one, two, five more times before Steve finally came with a growling shout, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

You responded with a loud moan of your own as you felt him paint your walls, forcing your eyes open to take in his head lolling back, the deep pinch on his brows, the veins thickening on the side of his neck and his plump, red lips wide open with breathy moan and needy whines.

You'll never get tired of watching him come, either.

He grabbed you by the back of your head, bringing you close to kiss you messily, lips barely connecting, teeth clashing as he slowly rode out his high.

The second Steve stopped, you let yourself go.

Steve hurriedly wrapped his arm around you when your body slumped, one hand on the back of your head as he cradled you into his chest. Pushing himself off the headboard, he gently laid you on your back, earning a soft whimper from you when his cock slipped out.

"Ssh, you're okay, I'm sorry, I know," he whispered as he situated himself beside you, hands flat against the mattress as he littered your skin with comforting kisses and praises. "Did so so good for me, sweetheart."

He kept doing it, whispering sweet nothings on your lips, on your cheeks, trailing across your face before moving down your body. His mouth followed the trail of his hands, placing gentle kisses on the skin after he'd rubbed soothing circles on your sore muscles with no ill intent. He only stopped when he felt your arms wrap around his neck, tugging at him to come up.

Steve lifted his head up to meet your tired but twinkling eyes, now cleared of haze.

"There's my beautiful girl," he gushed, gently prying your legs apart so his body could slot in between. Supporting himself on his forearms, he hovered above you, his lips quirking up to match your blissful smile. "Feeling okay?"

You nodded, sighing, "Feel amazing."

"Good," he chuckled, kissing your lips a couple more times before burying his face into your chest. "That's good."

"Steve!" you giggled, trying to pry his head away when his mouth found your boob again. You gasped when he lightly kissed your nipple, your hands covering your face as you laughed, "They're starting to get sore!"

"Oh, are they?" he murmured, voice muffled since his lips never left your skin, moving across your sternum to get to the other boob, giving it its deserved attention too. "I'm not quite done with them, though."

"Okay!" you squeaked when he started nibbling around your mounds, making nom nom nom sounds. You squirmed under him as heaps of squealing giggles escaped your lips. "You've made your point!"

He chuckled, giving them a few more kisses each before he pressed his cheek on your stomach, eyes meeting yours. "Just making sure it sticks in that pretty head of yours."

"I feel sticky."

Steve laughed, trailing back up to press his lips on yours. You hummed, legs on his waist, arms wrapping around his neck, your smile evident against the kiss.

"I could do a hot shower, too," he hummed, giving you a few sweet pecks before detaching himself from your body. He walked over to his ensuite bathroom, found a towel, damping it and wiped himself clean. He rinsed it up to do the same to you.

You were grinning to yourself when he got back.

"What're you smiling at?" he asked, picking up his sweatpants on the floor and slipping them on before walking over to you with the cloth.

"I think Robin has a point about the ass thing," you hummed, instinctively making access for him between your legs so he could clean you up like the many times he'd done before. "Because I really like your butt. It's cute and it's hot."

The heat traveled from Steve's face to the whole expanse of his neck.

"Stop looking at my ass, you perv."

"It looked at me first!" you laughed. "All round and jiggling and everything."

"Stop it!" he reprimanded, but he couldn't help but laugh with you, even though he was so sure his chest had gone red too. Only you could have him flustered over the littlest of things. But hey, it worked both ways. "We should eat dinner first then shower since I'm sure you're going to get hungry. I'll heat up the pizza from earlier."

"No," you whined, one arm lightly slamming on the bed as you covered your face with the other. "Snack, hot shower, and nap."

"You're out cold till next morning the second you get comfortable, babe. Don't talk to me about naps."

"Then change it to sleep."

Steve shook his head, rolling his eyes as he went back to the bathroom to take care of the towel.

You were still in the exact position when he got back.

He stood in front of you, hands on his hips as he nudged your foot with his knee. "Dinner, shower, sleep, come on."

"But then I have to wait for the food to digest before going to sleep," you protested, full on spreadeagle on the bed, pouting at him.

"Jesus Christ," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before shaking his head at you with a fond smile. He offered you both his hands with a chuckle, "Then get your ass in the shower. I'm going to get you water and a snack which is…"

"Do we still have that watermelon in the fridge?" You smiled, excited, taking his hand to let him help you sit up.

"Yes," he said, shooting you a knowing look before picking up your clothes off the floor. "But you are not eating watermelon on the bed."

You slumped back on the mattress with a groan, "But Steve."

"No," he said firmly, handing you a shirt and the shorts you discarded hours ago. "You want watermelon? Downstairs."

"I'm not even a messy eater," you grumbled, sitting back up and putting the clothes on.

Your legs were wobbling the second you stood up.

Steve was immediately at your side, keeping you upright with an arm around your waist. He was grinning smugly, biting his cheek to stop it from growing too much.

Still, you saw—well, not that he was trying that hard to stop it, either.

"Leave me alone!" you whined, hiding your face in his chest, which in turn, made him burst out laughing. "This is your fault!"

"I know," he said unashamedly, guiding you behind him for a piggyback ride. "Come on."

He carried you downstairs, his chest warming when you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, littering it with soft kisses during your journey to the kitchen.

Steve sat you on top of the counter, his heart doubling in size as you absentmindedly swung your legs, watching him with a lovely smile as he moved around the kitchen. You gave him a grateful kiss once he handed you a bowl of a few slices of cold watermelon.

Heating up some pizza for himself, he decided to put four in the microwave. He could usually do with just two, but he had a hunch.

It still didn't fail him.

Because the second he took it out and the smell of it covered the kitchen, you pouted, eyes pleading as you looked at the plate, and then back at him.

Steve deadpanned, nudging your legs apart and situating himself in between, holding the plate of hot pizza in the middle of you both.

You ate like that in comfortable silence, only breaking it with laughs and giggles when you'd inevitably find yourselves in a kiss. Then there was a knowing yet fond sigh, Steve grabbing some paper towels when the watermelon started dripping down your chin. Your pout was in full play when he held your face, wiping it clean for you. He kissed it away, of course.

A full glass of water later, you were on his back again, latched like a koala, yawning like a sloth. He carried you straight into his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet to pee as he got the shower ready.

You were already half asleep the minute you two got under the running water.

Apart from your yawns and the way you were practically leaning on him with your cheek pressed to his chest, you'd been rubbing lazy circles of his body wash on the same spot for the last minute or two, over and over and over.

"That part of my back is going to be shining after this."

"I'm trying!" you whined, switching to up and down movements this time.

God you're so fucking cute.

Steve gently pulled you off of him despite not wanting to, trailing his hands with gentle circles over your chest—both palms squeezing playfully at your boobies which earned him an annoyed groan and a smack on the arm—and then moving to your stomach, earning another smack when he tickled your sides. Crouching down, he soaped up your legs, back to front before standing to his full height.

He chuckled when you immediately clung to him like a magnet, arms wrapping around his neck swiftly. He gave your shoulders massages then, rubbing down your back, teasingly squeezing your ass before moving back up again.

"Hey," Steve called out softly when you slowly got heavier in his arms. "Don't fall asleep on me."

"Feel'so–ugh, s'nice," you mumbled, face pressing against his neck with another you yawned, "So tired."

"I know," he chuckled, pulling the shower off the hook and handing it to you. "Here, rinse up so I can properly clean myself since you did a bad job."

You pouted, glaring at him with no ounce of fire but took the shower and did as told, anyway.

Steve was sure you were running on faulty autopilot by the time you were brushing your teeth. Your figure was wrapped only in a towel, eyes fully closed, brows deeply furrowed as you made languid circles in your mouth, staying on one spot for a little longer before moving to the next, the foam dribbling down your chin and splattering on the sink.

Steve chuckled at your state, thankful that he got to brush his teeth before you so he was able to watch such an endearing sight. He laughed even harder when you flipped him off, placing an adoring kiss on your forehead before he went downstairs.

He was met by your very naked and very lovely ass when he entered his room, your face pressed into the duvet, limbs apart like he had his very own giant starfish on his bed. Shaking his head with a chuckle, he placed the full glass of water on your bedside table.

He gave your cute butt a tap to check if you were still awake.

You groaned in response.

"Naked, shirt, or panties?" he asked, opening the drawer he'd cleared out to make room for your clothes a few weeks ago.

Your voice was muffled by the sheets but still loud enough for him to hear, "Panties, please."

Humming with a proud smile, he pulled out some cotton ones, white and polka-dotted pink with a cute bow at the front. Walking over to you, he tapped your ass again. You groaned softly before you rolled over onto your back. He slipped your panties on for you, guiding you to lie down properly, flicking his lamp on before turning the main light off.

The second he slipped beside you under the covers, you immediately curled into his side, cheek pressed against his chest, arm around his stomach with your leg swung over him.

"G'Night, Steve," you murmured, so sweet and soft that if you weren't practically on top of him, he wouldn't have heard it.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, arms squeezing your form closer as he whispered back,

"Goodnight, my love."

He gave it a few seconds, waiting, a fond chuckle escaping him when his only response was your soft snores.

Steve's so goddamn in love with you and didn't have a clue.

•••

Sometime in the night you two must've switched places, because when Steve stirred awake in the morning, he could hear your heartbeat, loud in his ears.

Slowly coming to, he realized that he'd been roused from his slumber not by the sunlight that leaked through his window. It was by the feeling of your soft fingers running through his hair and the comforting patterns you were drawing on his back—connecting his freckles and moles, probably, a habit of yours he absolutely adored.

"Steve?"

He hummed in response, nuzzling his face against your chest, grin widening when his nose nudged your still naked boob. He gave it a kiss, two more as he affectionately rubbed his cheek on the other, much like a cat.

"I need to get ready," you giggled, nails scratching his scalp, trailing to the back of his ear, making him shudder. "Up, sleepyhead."

How could you ask him that and do that at the same time?

"No," he whined, voice a little croaky, arms tightening around you, cursing whoever gave you an early shift. "Don't leave yet."

"Steve—"

"Five more minutes."

"Which will turn into ten, and then fifteen, and the next thing you know, you've kept me in bed for an hour and I'm already way past late."

Okay, that did happen once...or twice.

"But you haven't even told me good morning yet."

Your chest vibrated as you let out a hearty laugh, the feeling against his cheek making him smile. You cupped his face with both hands, urging him to come up.

Steve obliged, his heart growing twice its size at the sight of your beautiful face.

He loved having you be the first person he sees when he wakes up.

"Good morning, handsome," you hummed, smile glowing, eyes twinkling, the morning sunlight making you look like an—

"Good morning, angel."

"Right, confirmed that the pet name's staying," you giggled, bringing him in for a kiss.

"It's fitting," he hummed against your lips, shifting in his place until he was hovering over you, forearms caging your head. He kissed you for a few seconds more, only pulling away so he could properly look at you smiling back at him, glowing so beautifully. "You look like one."

You giggled shyly, scrunching up your face before you pressed it against his bicep, a poor attempt at hiding.

Steve didn't know if there was something in the air, or if it was the simple act of watching you like this, so relaxed, so comfortable, so secure and so happy—with him. 

All he knew was that he simply couldn't keep it in any longer.

"I need to tell you something," he said, a little nervous as he stroked your temple with his thumb.

You tilted your head at him curiously, "What's up?"

"I wanted to say it last night but I didn't want you to think it's 'in the heat of the moment' kind of thing," he admitted. "Need you to know I mean it the first time you hear it."

"Hear what?" you asked, voice sprinkled with concern as you cupped his cheek.

Steve gave your lips a soft peck, head turning to kiss your palm before he leaned against your touch. And with his eyes reflecting that powerful emotion that was burning in his chest, bubbling and begging to spill out, he said,

"I love you."

There was a soft gasp, your eyes widening slightly, your lips parting. You kept your eyes locked with his, but you stayed quiet. It was probably only a split second long but it was enough for Steve's heart to pick up a nervous pace.

"You don't have to say it back, I just—" He dropped his head, your foreheads pressed together, his nose nudging yours as he gave you a shy smile. "I needed you to know."

Steve felt a sense of relief when he saw your smile grow, letting out that oh so sweet giggle as you tilted your head to give him a quick kiss.

But then you smirked.

"Really pulling all the stops to keep me in bed, huh?"

Steve groaned in annoyance, pushing himself up and plopping onto his back beside you, forearm covering his eyes to hide his embarrassment.

"You are cruel."

You laughed, so lovely, so angelic.

His heart leaped at the sound, another organ jumping when you suddenly straddled his hips.

You leaned down, your bare chest pressing against his hairy one as you kissed his jaw, pulling his arm away so you could look into his eyes. And with your enchanting eyes glowing, captivating smile just as bright, you said,

"I love you too."

Steve sighed with a lovestruck grin as his fingers curled around your waist. "Say it again."

You shook your head, giggling as you pressed your lips against his, whispering into the kiss,

"I love you."

Steve groaned, hand holding the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, the other gripping at your hip to bring you a little closer.

"Oh my—Steve!" You pulled away with a gasp, eyes wide with realization before you buried your face into his neck with a hearty laugh.

He grinned knowingly, feigning innocence when he asked, "What'd I do?"

"Did you just get hard from me saying I love you?"

Yes.

Yes, he did.

"Uh, yeah? Do you know how fucking sexy that is?" he said like it was obvious. Well, he was already sporting a semi when he woke up, dick stirring when you pressed your boobs on him, your words simply made it fuller—just like his heart. "I mean, fuck, you love me."

"God, it's already starting to get into your head," you joked.

"Both heads," he corrected. "Stimulated the brain and sperm cells."

That made you groan, outwardly cringing as you got off of him. "I can't deal with you."

"It's true!" he laughed, making grabby hands as you walked towards the bathroom. "Baby, no, come back! I thought you loved me!"

"Not after that horrible joke!" you called out, the sound of running water following suit.

He shook his head, lovesick smile never leaving his face, not even for a second, sighing contently as he settled back in bed. He had nothing to do this morning but drive you to work, his shift wasn't until after lunch.

Laying on his stomach, he grabbed your pillow and tucked it under his arm, pressing his cheek against the remnants of your warmth and the sweet smell of your hair. It was barely even a substitute for the real thing, but it'll have to do for now until you'd get out of the bathroom so he can lovingly annoy you some more,

It didn't take long for that to happen.

But not in the way he expected.

"Steve fucking Harrington!"

Your glare was burning when you appeared back in the bedroom. But he wasn't focused on that—oh absolutely not

How could he when you were only wearing your panties, top half still completely naked?

And not only were you topless, but you were also marked.

Steve smiled smugly, burrowing his cheek against the pillow as his eyes trailed over the love bites that adorned your torso.

He might have gone overboard with the hickeys—okay, not might. He did.

For starters, there were quite a few—okay, maybe more than just a few—on the sweet spots all over your neck, then one or plenty more as you go further down your collarbone. There weren't too many. After all, he didn't want to overshadow the main piece.

A whole lot more were all over your boobies of course. 

But not scatteredly placed.

Nope.

Steve had a better idea than that.

Two hearts on each side of your chest, a bit lopsided but you could still make out the shape as each circled one of your pretty boobs. And then just a little below your sternum, an S H placed right in the middle.

He had to sign his work of art, obviously, especially when it was quite an amazing feat. To be honest, he didn't know how he managed to pull it off with it actually turning just perfect. But then again, you were too distracted to even realize what he was doing.

Steve felt so proud of himself.

Extremely proud.

It was another way of saying just how much he loves them—creatively, might he add.

"What a sight," he gushed, blowing out his cheeks. "You look gorgeous."

You grabbed the first thing you could reach—which was your bra hanging on his desk chair—balled it up and threw it at him. He fell back on the bed when it hit him square on the face, bursting out laughing.

"I'm leaving."

Steve got out of bed at record speed, his back landing against the door with a thud as he blocked your way.

You glared at him, arms crossed, so clearly frustrated and annoyed. And while he usually found you cute when you were angry, with you being close to naked, tits on full display and covered in his marks? Oh you looked so fucking hot.

It made him want to pull by the throat, press you against the door and kiss you senseless.

"Steve, I swear if you don't stop staring—"

"What? I'm appreciating the art!" he defended, gesturing at your chest with a wide smirk. "Boobs included."

"You're impossible!" you squeaked, hitting his arm before turning on your heels, standing in front of the foot of his bed, hands on your hips.

His eyes wandered down your bare chest again. 

"Steven!"

"Okay! Okay," he conceded, meeting your eyes with the most charming smile he could muster, hands up as he slowly walked over to you. "I think I have a turtleneck somewhere, you can borrow it."

"I can't wear a turtleneck underneath my uniform! I think you've forgotten I work in a bakery," you stated as if it was obvious. When he only looked at you with a confused face, you growled, "There are ovens, Steve, hot ovens!"

Fuck.

You really needed to stop making those noises while your boobs were staring right back at him, eye to nipple.

"Well, then you'll just have to show off my masterpiece," he said, shrugging.

"Steve," you whined, head thrown back, hands rubbing at your eyes.

"What'd you want me to do!" he laughed, taking the last remaining steps before circling his arms around your waist, tucking his face into your neck. "Hmm, want me to kiss them away?"

"No!" you squeaked, the sound swiftly replaced by your laugh when he blew a raspberry on your ticklish spot. "Off me, Harrington!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, fingers splaying on the sides of your neck as he ran his thumbs across your jaw. "What can I do to help?"

You pursed your lip, thinking. Steve couldn't help but lean down and kiss it, only for you to gasp in his mouth a few seconds later.

"Can you get me a bowl of ice and a metal spoon please?"

It was a trick Vickie told Robin, who then told Steve, who then tried it on you. Because obviously, this wasn't the first time he got too excited about leaving marks on your skin.

This was his best work so far though, and he didn't want it to be gone too soon.

"But, angel, you can't get rid of them." He put on his best pout and puppy eyes. "It's too pretty to get rid of."

"I can't go to work like this!" you groaned, shaking your head, covering your eyes with your palms. "You know that."

The owner of the bakery you worked at was a nice, old lady, quite motherly and cared about her employees, sometimes a little too much. But boy was she a prude. The first time you showed up to work with one—the first time he'd given you one, to be exact—she had pulled you aside. She gave you a whole lecture about sex before marriage, and how sex was the Devil's game until it's been blessed by God in the church, and you shouldn't give into the temptation or else you'll suffer the consequences.

"Well, if sex is the devil's game, then please," Steve had drawled seductively after you retold the story, voice dropping as he leaned across the center console, hand on your headrest, your faces a few inches close. "Call me Satan."

You had buried your face in your hands with a groan, shaking your head. In disbelief? In embarrassment? In utter disappointment? He didn't know. Could've been all of the above, to be honest.

While Steve might've laughed and teased you when you told him the story, he also couldn't exactly blame you if you didn't want it to happen again.

"Okay, I'll get you the ice and spoon in a second."

"But?"

"Can I look at them for a little bit longer?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes, pleading with a pout, "I haven't had the chance to appreciate it."

"I mean, you can always take a picture."

Steve blinked.

This was his girl, his sweet, innocent, shy girl. This was the same one who would hide over the simplest compliment, the very same one who took a while getting comfortable in front of the Polaroid camera which you had gifted him on his birthday. You said it was for taking pictures of the simple yet beautiful things he found in his life, to immortalize them so they wouldn't be forgotten, especially when Steve's memory had been starting to grow faulty, lately. 

Obviously, a lot of the photos he'd take ended up being of you. He had only been able to take one with your full beauty on display when you weren't aware, not until after you'd heard the click. Because you'd be hiding behind your fingers if he'd told you beforehand.

And now, you were the one suggesting that he'd take pictures, and not even candid, innocent ones, nude photos, showing the dark markings all over your chest.

He died last night, didn't he? Because he was sure he was in heaven.

Then again, here you were, still half-naked in front of him.

Last night really must've done something to your confidence. 

Steve loved it.

"You serious?" he asked.

"Yes, Steve, I'm serious," you confirmed, shrugging with your signature shy smile. "And you always keep saying how you want to take one when we do it."

"Are you a hundred percent—"

"Yes!" you laughed, pushing at him gently. "Now quickly because I'm going to be late!"

"Okay! Okay! I'm getting to it!"

Once the Polaroid camera was hanging around his neck, he immediately took your hands, guiding you to sit in the middle of the bed.

You laughed when he moved you around a couple of times, settling for a few seconds, before tugging you to change position again. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration as he tried to see which angle and lighting from the sun would look best.

Finally, deciding on one, he took a step back.

Steve's breath got knocked out of his lungs once his eyes landed on you.

You were sitting on your knees, your hands, palms flat against your thighs as you looked at him with that gorgeous yet shy smile. The morning sunlight was hitting you perfectly, your skin glowing, showcasing your tits beautifully, the marks made even more prominent by the golden rays.

Steve didn't know if there was a mirror somewhere and it was a trick of the light, or if you truly had a real halo above your head. Because you definitely looked like the most beautiful, most breathtakingly stunning angel he'd ever laid his eyes on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How did he get so lucky?

Steve didn't want to get too ahead of himself but he swore he wanted to marry you right then and there.

"Stop gawking, you perv."

He blinked, shaking his head as he grumbled, "Right, right, sorry—pfft, you're fucking distracting, that's not my fault."

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. But he still saw your smile brighten.

"Wait, wait, let me just—" Steve took long strides closer to you, dipping his head and circling his lips on the marks that were fading a little. You gasped when he started suckling, deepening their color again. He grinned against your warm skin when you all but melted into his touch. "Hmm, just needed to touch up some."

"Steve," you whined. "You're not playing fair." 

"Okay, okay, I'm done," he chuckled, giving you a kiss on the lips before resuming his previous position, eyes moving behind the viewfinder. "Now sit still and smile—"

You scrunched up your face and stuck out your tongue.

Click.

"You're usually good at following instructions, what happened?" he tutted, shaking his head, pinching the printed photo between his fingers. "Since you're fucking adorable, I'll let it slide." Smirking, he added, "For now."

You grew shy at that, eyes glossing with that familiar haze before you shook your head, smile widening as you pressed your cheek on your shoulder.

Click.

"Gorgeous," he gushed out, eyes still trained on you as he took the second photo out of the exit slot. "You honestly deserve to be in a museum."

You shook your head, giggling shyly, "Stevie, can you get me that ice now?"

"Few more, please?"

"But Steve," you whined, now moving to cover your face with your hands. "I think we've done enough. I look like shit in the morning."

"Hey! Don't you dare! You look fucking beautiful," he reprimanded, bringing up the camera and taking another photo anyway, despite not being able to capture your face. The more the merrier, he thought. Once it made its signature whirring sound, he looked at you with a smile. "Come on, let me see you, pretty girl."

You shook your head, hands falling back on your thighs as you giggled.

Click.

"God you're so pretty it hurts," Steve groaned, shaking his head in disbelief, fingers now getting full of photos but he was sure it would never be enough. "Like you're definitely not helping with my boner here, babe, it's fucking aching."

"Steve!" you burst out laughing. 

Click.

You gasped, "I wasn't ready!"

"Pfft, I bet you still look stunning," he scoffed, rolling his eyes at you teasingly before he carefully placed the photos face down on his bedside table. "Okay, I'm done."

"Us two?" you asked.

Now, he'd be a fool to say no.

With a grin, Steve quickly settled beside you, taking the strap off his neck so he could hold the camera farther to fit you both in the frame.

He turned to you and asked, "How do you want?"

You shrugged, smiling at him as you cupped his face with both hands, fingers splaying on his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss.

Steve grinned even wider.

Click.

Humming between the kiss, he teased his tongue against your parted lips, slipping it into your mouth not long after, earning a soft moan from you.

Click.

And it went on like that for a few minutes, just the two of you kissing as Steve kept taking picture after picture, the films falling all over the bed and some on the floor. He'd take care of them later. And sure, making out with you with a hand in the air was a task and a half, his bicep gradually aching as the seconds ticked by. But he knew that the photos he'd get will make everything worth it.

Even more as he moved down your throat, your head tilting with a gasp as you gave him easier access, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Click.

He went further down, placing open-mouth kisses on your collarbone before moving to your boobs, lips teasingly wrapping around your nipple.

Click.

"Steve—okay, that's enough," you gasped, followed by a squeal when he playfully nibbled, pushing his head away from your chest with soft laughs. "You need to stop before you get carried away."

"Me?!" He glared at you teasingly. 

"You're the one who's addicted to sucking my boobs!

"Well, it's not my fault they're super suckable!"

"Oh God," you groaned, face in your hands. "Can I have that ice now?"

Steve didn't stall anymore this time.

When he got back from the kitchen, he found you sitting on the bed in your jeans and bra, sifting through the Polaroid photos with a warm, proud smile.

"How'd they turn out?" he asked, placing the bowl of ice cubes with two—he was going to help, obviously—metal spoons on the now cleared bedside table.

Steve moved to sit behind you, arm around your waist to pull you closer, chin on your shoulder so he could peer at the photos and—oh my fucking God.

Stunning was a massive understatement.

"Holy shit, look at you!" Steve gasped, taking a few in his hands and fuck you looked beautiful in every single one.

"They do look pretty," you murmured, fanning a couple more in your fingers to show each photo.

"You look pretty," he gushed, turning to meet your eyes. "I don't call you my pretty girl for nothing."

Every single time you hear it, your eyes light up. And every single time he sees that, Steve's heart skips a beat.

It was why he never tired of telling you just how beautiful you were to him.

Kissing your lips quickly yet sweetly, he turned back to look at the pictures, eyes twinkling with admiration.

All of them were gorgeous, don't get him wrong. But one, in particular, caught Steve's eye.

It was the one with you laughing, the joyful and natural glow on your features a stark contrast to how your tits were in full display, bruised up and covered in all his love.

"Now, this," he hummed, taking it in his fingers and showing it to you. "This is going in my wallet."

Your head snapped to look at him, eyes wide. "You can't keep that in your wallet!"

Steve pouted, "Why not?"

"What if someone sees?" you said, voice dropping as if you were disclosing a secret.

"Then they'll get to see how fucking beautiful my girlfriend is," he stated, as a matter of fact, shrugging. A sweet yet apprehensive smile tugged at your lips. Steve kissed it gently, "But, if you don't want me to, just say the words and I won't."

You didn't say a single word.

Instead, you hid your face against his neck, your skin warm against his, so obviously flustered. Yet still, you gave his skin gentle, appreciative and loving kisses. 

Steve grinned.

Because as shy as you may be, he knows you love it when he shows you off.

Steve always did whenever he got the chance.

And later that day as he went and paid for his and Robin's ice cream, he earned a sudden smack on the back of his head. It was from a plastic spoon this time, so it didn't really hurt much.

But still.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Your wallet, dingus!"

Steve blushed, but his smirk was smug and wide, earning a punch on the arm this time when he wiggled his eyebrows.

It was the same photo he claimed earlier but with a slightly new addition.

A scribble of his handwriting on the white space below that said:

My pretty girl(s)

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[lonophobic]

“should’ve just begged for me in the first place, huh?”

tartaglia x male reader

tw: smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), top male reader, reader is a sadist, but tartag is a masochist so its all good lmao, binding, crying, begging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, nipple play, reader is mentioned to be a half-god, childe is called a whore once, childe is called ajax for this fic, i think thats it but im not sure lmao

genre: smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

summary: uhh plotless smut lol childe radiates bottom energy so much

a/n: this was supposed to be a small little thirst. small. idk what happened.

part 2!

!not proofread

—

y/n could hear ajax’s sobs as his tip leaked precum, a white puddle already resting on his stomach from the previous orgasms. his hands were tied behind his back, immobilizing him and rendering him helpless. you were still thrusting into his tight hole, the two of you covered in a thin layer of sweat. ajax’s back was leaning against the bed frame, yet his head was hanging down as you could hear his pants and soft sniffles. he didn’t even know how many times he had cum that night already, all he knew was that he wanted more- needed more. he felt you slow down, and as he was about to start complaining, he felt your lips against his, bringing him into a surprisingly soft kiss, which was a large contrast to how the two of you looked at that moment. tounges danced with each other as ajax could feel your dick twitch inside him. you pulled back, quickening your pace with a soft groan. you glanced at ajax’s tear- streaked face, then let go of one of his thighs you were holding up to trail up his chest until you were brushing your fingers against his hard nipples, which brought a raspy whimper up his throat. he was getting lost in the moment when you suddenly pinched his nipple, hard. you felt him tighten around you, letting out a hoarse moan while he threw his head back, hearing a bump from his head hitting the bed frame. you put your hand back to his thigh to hold it back up, and replaced your fingers with your mouth- licking, sucking, and biting the hardened nub. you heard him let out another sob as he spasmed around your cock, his cum being so thin at this point that he might as well be squirting water. his back arched off the bed frame, and you slowed down your thrusts until they came to a stop. you were a bit tired too- you cummed quite a bit already inside the harbinger. you were about to pull out to get cleaned up, but you felt your boyfriend bite your neck, keeping you in place.

“where do you think you’re going? i thought you said you’d fuck me dumb today. i expected more from a half-god.”

this made you chuckle- you’ve never met anyone else in your entire eternal life who could handle more rounds than ajax. it made you amused, excitement bubbling from your core.

“fine. we can go further. but-if you really want me to go harder-“

you paused to lean down and kiss his temple, leaning a bit further down to be right next to his ear to whisper-

“you’re gonna have to beg for it, you little whore.”

this sent shivers down ajax’s spine; he smirked, and replied with a snarky response.

“you’ll never see me beg for a good fucking, shouldn’t you just give it to me?”

~

ajax was squirming, openly sobbing. as much as he regretted saying those words to you, every inch of his body seemed to love it. he had been denied orgasm after orgasm, your thrusting and hand jerking him off stopping right at the edge. it was driving him crazy- his eyes rolled to the back of his head, head tilting back as far as it could go before the bed frame stopped it. his mouth open wide as it spilled moan after moan, taking in huge gulps of air as he was fucked right to the edge, just to be pulled back. his tears were falling freely off of his eyes onto his cheeks, mind hazy from the intense feeling he was getting. he could barely process you were talking to him, but your hand gripping his chin to make him face you brought him back to reality.

“you want to cum?”

this sounded like a miracle to ajax; he had been on the edge for archons know how long, hours probably. he was willing to do anything for release at this point.

“YES-yesyesyes, please- please- i’m sorry i said that to you- pleasepleasepleaseplease just let me cum,”

he blurted out, tightening around the cock that had been ruining his insides for the past several hours. this seemed to satisfy you, and you leaned down to kiss his forehead with a soft smile.

“finally decided to listen, huh? well, i guess i could help you, since i’ve had my fun.”

you helped to shift ajax so that he was on his back, and retying his restraints so that they were tied against the bed frame. you suddenly brought his knees to his shoulders, which made ajax stiffen in surprise. when you slammed yourself back inside, he let out a loud, raspy moan that was almost a shout. you gave him no time to recover, pulling out until just the tip of your cock was inside and harshly trusting all the way back in. ajax could feel you so much deeper inside, your tip pressing against his prostate. he moaned loudly at every thrust, hearing the flesh of your hips snap against his bruised ass. you put his legs on your shoulders and leaning down so you could bite at his neck, hard enough to draw blood. you felt ajax’s back lift off of the bed as you sucked on the spot you had bit as you whispered soft praises into his ear, which were hardly processed by the ginger. you glanced down, seeing his stomach bulge with each thrust. as you bit down on another spot, you pressed down on the bulge, which finally pushed ajax over the edge. he screamed, sticky white liquid squirting from his tip. he clenched down hard on your cock, which made you cum as well with a moan. the two of you sat there for a minute, both panting as you calmed down from your highs. after a minute, he heard you chuckle.

“should’ve just begged for me in the first place, huh?”

you heard him laugh weakly, his voice raspy as he responded.

“i’ll be sure to get you back sometime.”

—

words: 996

damn i just wanted bottom childe and this is what my rotting brain created 🧍

planning a part 2 where foul legacy!childe tests the limits of his half-god boyfriend 🤗

edit: forgot to add tags lmao

[satosugusandwich]

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: once again mentions of violence from first chapter, self hatred, self-sabotage, sukuna is introspective, but he’s still an asshole, mentions of a sex room (context is necessary to understand lmao)

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*Yuji is aged up but there will be no sexual stuff with him except maybe like a brief mention but yeah*

Also I mentioned this on Ao3 but this work in inspired by “Teeth” by Lady Gaga (also monster by her is so Sukuna coded)

@dressycobra7

Chapter 2 Here!!!!!

Chapter 3: To Hate One’s Self

You were able to sleep way harder than you anticipated. You suspected that the trauma from the whole ordeal would make you unable to sleep at all but there was something comforting about having Yuji with you and even though you didn’t want to admit it, having a demon bound to you was actually pretty fucking reassuring. When you woke up, you immediately decided that you have no desire to even think about going to class let alone actually go. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and rot a little bit. (Only temporarily, Yuji hoped). Yuji offered to go get breakfast for you two and promised he’d be as fast as possible, so you were left alone with Sukuna in your living room while you scrolled through YouTube videos online.

It didn’t take long for your peaceful scrolling to be interrupted by swearing coming from the living room and then an “aha!” You were curious but also scared to know what exactly Sukuna was doing. You decided to remain there until you heard a loud thud. You didn’t bother to fix your hair or your clothes when you peeked out of the door to peer at Sukuna. He had picked up your recliner and moved it across the room, seemingly had thrown it.

“Do you intend to watch me?” He turned his head toward you and rose to his feet from the floor. You realized what he was doing now, eyeballing the tv remote in his hands.

“Uh, no, just—I was wondering where that was.” You stammered. “I checked under there but—“

“It was lodged in the inside of it. I had to shake it around to get it out.” Sukuna interjected.

“Are you gonna… put it back?” You can’t believe you just asked a scary super intense monster demon thing to move your chair back.

He seemed amused but unsurprised by your question. “It was in the way.” His body was fully turned to you now and you couldn’t help but watch his stomach mouth smirk at you.

You opened your mouth to speak but were far too distracted by how one pair of arms crossed themselves while the others sat on his hips like a disappointed mother. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” You finally spoke.

“If you tell that brat to bring me extra food, I’ll move whatever you like.” He grinned.

Food? Okay. Interesting motivation but relatable you thought to yourself. “Yeah, sure.” You opened up your phone and called Yuji, telling him Sukuna wants extra.

“Man, he already eats comical amounts of food… I’m gonna go bankrupt.” Yuji mumbled over the line.

Sukuna had already moved the recliner back to its original spot and was sat, turning on the television after inspecting the remote closely.

Yuji continued. “I think I’ll get barbecue since I can get a whole lot for really cheap. He gets extra needy after he follows a more crazy command. Are you feeling okay?”

You nod, still watching Sukuna. “Yeah. And bbq is fine. I’ll send you my order.”

After hanging up, you walked back into your room and then into the bathroom to fix yourself. You didn’t want to look in the mirror and when you did, you realized you really were right. Your eyes were dark and your skin was so much paler. On top of that, you could see that bruises formed overnight on areas where the men had gripped you extra hard, and not to mention the dryness of your skin, having neglected drinking anything since you came home. Really, you feel ashamed for what you’ve done, you fucked up your life by sucking some shitheads dick and have given your best friend unnecessary stress. You were miserable. Maybe all you should do is rot.

“Hey brat! Teach me how to navigate your technology!” Sukuna called to you snapping you out of your ideation.

A nasty scowl was on his face and his stomach mouth was certainly not smiling anymore. You looked to your tv and realized it was on the wrong input and he was clicking buttons frustratedly, trying to get it off the error screen. You recall that you were playing video games last time you were out in the living room and you must’ve forgot to switch it back.

“Here, press this button.” You clicked the blue input button and it changed to the regular settings. “What are you trying to watch?”

Sukuna scoffed. “I can find what I want myself, I’ve seen the brat do it enough.” He snatched the remote back from you and slowly started to scroll to Netflix and then clicking on the app. It’s fascinating watching him, it’s like watching an old person use a phone.

“Okay.” You waited a moment before deciding to walk to the kitchen, trying to hide the fact that you were curious to see what he’d try to watch.

Sukuna assumed you wanted to watch him, he was tempted to find something that would make you react in an amused way. He didn’t exactly know what, but was determined to get a reaction out of you. He settled on an interesting title, How to Build A Sex Room. Perfect. “Hm.” Sukuna mumbled. “Humans still fuck like rabbits.”

You didn’t know what to say. But what made it worse for you? You had already started watching that show in the past. So it started in the middle of an episode.

“The hell? This doesn’t seem to be right, it’s in the middle of the show.” Then his head was suddenly facing you. “Someone must’ve been watching it.”

You were blushing and even though his face was completely indifferent, you could see his stomach mouth smirking again. “Maybe.” Is all you said. Let’s pray the demon that you just met doesn’t realize that you’re a freak and that he doesn’t understand technology at all.

Sukuna found the restart button fast. Yeah, he knows enough. Damn Yuji for being such a movie nerd! And damn Yuji for having a demon that watches him!

“Hey, I got a a question.” You tried to deflect from your embarrassment.

Sukuna remained fixated on the screen. “I suppose I’ll indulge.”

“Do you have to be around me or Yuji? Or can you roam free?”

Sukuna pursed his lips. “Regrettably, I’m stuck with both of you. If I could roam completely free, I wouldn’t be anywhere near here.” He answered honestly, seemingly unconcerned with how you feel toward his answer.

“How far can you go?”

“That’s already two I’ve answered.”

“Sorry.”

He let out a huff of air. “I’m only teasing. The distance depends, there’s no specification. Sometimes it depends on the security of the master. Presently, you don’t feel very safe so I can’t go far. I could’ve gone with the brat and maintained better distance, but I hate being stuffed into his vehicle.”

That makes sense, he was practically in a million different positions trying to remain comfortable in your friend’s car, thinking about the way he was having to sit made you realize it was a lot funnier than you remember. The recliner he was situated in was almost the perfect size to hug his body. You were sure he’s grateful to not have to follow Yuji anymore, but then again, he can’t get that far away from you either.

“Sorry you can’t leave.” You said.

Sukuna didn’t respond and instead focused on the screen. You attempted to shuffle away now, finding yourself to feel very awkward.

“Hey, brat.” Right as you got to your door he spoke. “You went to sleep with that man, right? I’ve heard you speak about your outings with the other brat and I find it pitiful you choose such sad men.”

Oh shit, you can feel that same tightness in your throat coming again as well as embarrassment flood your senses. You didn’t answer him.

“In my era, a woman like you would’ve been thrown to the masses, celebrated. I never had any interest in women like that but the men that did were ones who could not stand on their own. Taking cock from a man like that will ruin you.”

His words took you aback, not just because of his brazen use of the work cock, but also what felt to you like harsh advice. You sucked down the urge to cry and asked him, “why are you telling me this?”

Sukuna pondered over what he should answer with. “I don’t like watching misery.”

You entered your room and shut the door, unsure if he was being compassionate or shaming you. Either way, the words still hurt. Sukuna himself wondered if he should’ve said that, he doesn’t exactly care for you or anything and neither has he cared for anyone in a very long time, maybe it was an inkling of the past coming through. It was true, he can’t stand watching misery, watching someone wallow in it reminded him far too much of his own upbringing and the sense of being rejected. He had to make his way to the top, to earn the title of Sukuna. He’s long forgotten his name, cursed it to the back of his mind, a part of him he doesn’t desire to remember.

Soon after, Yuji arrived with all of your food and left Sukuna with his family sized meal before entering and seeing you bundled up burrito style on your bed. He could see the redness of your face and immediately knew you were crying again or was. He didn’t acknowledge it, choosing to try and keep you in a good mood by talking about the experience at the restaurant. Luckily, because of his stupid attitude, you were laughing pretty quickly.

Then he popped a question out. “What is Sukuna watching?”

You snorted. “How to build a sex room.”

His eyes widened and his nick stretched forward. “Huh?”

You were laughing a lot harder now. “Don’t ask me, he likes what he likes. You got a freak bound to your family lineage.”

Yuji slumped down onto your floor dramatically. “Man, he’s already a handful now, I can’t imagine how much worse he’s going to get with you now.”

A yell came through the door. “I can hear you!” Yuji straightened fast and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder. He’s such an idiot.

Sukuna wasn’t too amused, hearing Yuji so openly trash talk him and very loudly. Your laughter didn’t make it any better and he found it to be out of place after what you went through. He also doesn’t appreciate being called a freak. At least you’re attempting to move on, Sukuna could applaud you for trying.

“If I hear anything else, you’ll regret it, brat!”

“Whatever!” Yuji yelled back before quieting his voice. “He’s all talk, he can’t do anything to us. Unless we tell him to. Also, he tends to say things in a really abrasive way. He didn’t say anything to you, did he?”

You told him what he said and Yuji’s face shifted back into shock. “The last part was kinda funny. Who says cock so casually?” You laughed, cupping your hand around your mouth to try and keep quiet.

“Yeah, he’s a fucking weirdo.” Yuji was too loud.

“ITADORI!” He shouted and soon enough your bedroom door was wide open. “You sure have a lot to say after I saved your friend so kindly, your ass as well, and even stayed behind to protect her. Not a single thank you.” The demon feigned offense. “Shouldn’t you be groveling and worshipping me for doing such a feat for you?”

You could tell he was mostly joking and trying to irritate Yuji, but you really did realize you needed to thank him. You can’t believe you forgot.

“Hey, listen! You are weird, you’re from like a thousand years ago and are watching a freaky-deaky show! You also have bbq sauce on your stomach mouth! You have a literal mouth on your stomach!” Yuji stood up fast but Sukuna’s towering frame made him look like a child yelling at their father.

Sukuna was grinning down at him. “Hah. Your mouth is running exceptionally fast, might I tell her about that time you got so drunk you pissed on your own floor?”

You rolled back on the bed laughing and Yuji was beat red. “You—you saw that!?”

Sukuna wiped his mouth, briefly glancing over to you. “It was entertaining, how could I not watch?”

You put your hand on Yuji’s shoulder. “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Your kindness is misplaced.”

Hearing his words, you were brought back to your thoughts and managed to make yourself stop snickering. You almost forgot again! Rising up from the bed, you stepped between the two men, confusing both of them, then you bowed your head in front of Sukuna.

His grin faded and his expression turned sober. “What’s this?”

“Thank you for saving me.” You remain bowed. “I’m sorry for not answering your question earlier, as well.”

The demon looked at your head hanging before turning around and saying, “Your apologies are unnecessary, but I will take the gratitude.” He closed your door and you lifted your head, turning back to Yuji.

“Whoa, that’s unusual.” He said. “Sukuna is usually a lot more arrogant than that. You must’ve shaken him up or something.”

You stood there for a moment, pondering Yuji’s words. It was strange, he’s someone who seems to think highly of himself but just blew off your apology like it was nothing. Especially since he was framing what he did as a favor, you expected to see more of a jovial reaction or even a degrading one. He doesn’t seem to be heartless, just a little out of touch, so his reaction does make some sort of sense. Regardless, you don’t know him all that well so perhaps something is off about your newfound bonded demon.

Sukuna sunk back into the chair and continued watching the show, or really what he was doing was watching the images while his brain ran. After watching you from the side from time to time, he determined your naive and self-sabotaging habits to be a bore and overall sad, but now that he’s interacted with you, he almost feels guilty for having seen you in such a negative light. To be so grateful to him when he expressed saving you as a favor, as an obligation, shocked him. Should you not be screeching insults and your disdain at him? Are you that much of a self-hating creature? Did he even view saving you as a favor? He didn’t know, he hasn’t felt pulled to anyone since the Heian era or connected at all in that matter. He wondered, would he have saved you if Yuji had not commanded him to? Is he a creature still capable of compassion and empathy after experiencing all that he has?

[bro-atz]

mesmerized by you

in which: seonghwa's got the biggest crush on you, the tour manager.

pair: idol!seonghwa/afab!tour manager!reader

word count: 2.5k

content: suggestive, fluff? confessions of love, intense making out, let's just call this sfw smut lmao

author's note: i considered actually finishing the whole thing, but i decided to be evil since i'm still in my villain era ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

tag list: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis apply for the permanent taglist here!

Seonghwa had a huge crush on you. Huge. When he first laid eyes on you, he definitely thought you were attractive, but it wasn’t until he saw the way you were treating fans that he totally fell for you. He always thought tour managers were rude as hell and obnoxious— like, they all kept trying to flirt with the members no matter where on Earth they were. You, on the other hand, were extremely professional and treated the boys with respect. You were also definitely strict, as it was part of your job, but you never yelled at anyone with malice. Of course, you had to yell to get people to hear you, but that was the extent of it.

The interactions the boys had with the fans had to be brief, and everyone knew it. Whenever there was a fan that was getting a little too intense for them or stayed way after their allotted time, you were the person to guide them away. He was so used to seeing the big, brawny security guards leading the fans away that he was so surprised to see you kindly leading the fans away with subtle force.

The tour was three weeks long, but that wasn’t long enough for him. Seonghwa needed more time to get his shit together and get some one-on-one alone time with you. He lost more and more hope as the shows progressed and as time slowly dwindled down. By the last day, he had kind of given up. Kind of.

There were some fan interactions left, and you were guiding most of it. Seonghwa kept stealing secret glances in your direction as you talked to the photographer with a smile on your face, and every time you did the countdown for the picture, Seonghwa would look at you and only at you. You didn’t realize it, though, because you were right next to the photographer. You thought he was looking at the camera.

The fan interactions were done, and so were you with your work for the day. You and the entire team, including the boys, were all supposed to go for a celebration dinner, but you considered blowing it off. You were exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that you didn’t realize that you fully walked in between Seonghwa and one of the tour photographers in the middle of a session.

“Y/N! Come on!” the photographer yelled at you.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry,” you apologized profusely and bowed your head. “Did I ruin the shot?”

“Yeah, you did! See!”

You stood next to the photographer and looked at the pictures. You pointed at the most recent one and said, “Stop lying to me! The picture looks fine. I’m not even in it!”

You and the photographer continued to playfully bicker while Seonghwa was still standing against the wall. He was entranced by you standing and laughing with the photographer.

“Wait, this one,” you pointed at one of the previews. “Can I see that one?”

The picture popped up, and you were mesmerized. Seonghwa was gorgeous, and his side profile especially just in the preview of the picture. From his muscle tee wit the turtle neck to the jewelry he sported, everything about his stage outfit made him look so goddamn attractive. He took your breath away.

“Oy, Seonghwa, what were you looking at earlier, bud?” the photographer called out to the idol while gesturing for him to approach.

Seonghwa, heart racing, walked over. He was leaning over your shoulder to look at the camera. He felt his face heat up— the only reason he looked to the side was to watch you walk past, but he couldn’t say a damn thing without outing his crush on you in front of the photographer.

Thankfully, someone called the photographer over— Hongjoong also wanted to get some pictures taken. Seonghwa let out a quiet sigh of relief and took a step back. He was about to walk away when he realized that he was finally alone with you. He needed to seize the opportunity.

Meanwhile, you were massaging your neck and trying to decompress from the stress of that day. You were about to wish Seonghwa a good night and walk away, but he stopped you before you could even bow your head.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” Seonghwa asked somewhat timidly.

“Yeah?”

“Good work today… And the weeks prior.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but let out a light laugh. “Thank you. You, too.”

You took a step away, and Seonghwa slightly panicked. He didn’t realize that his statement would end the conversation so quickly. He grabbed your arm and said, “Wait! Are you going to go to the celebration dinner?”

“Oh, uh… I was thinking about skipping,” you admitted. “I’m exhausted. I’m just going to head back to the hotel and sleep.”

“I’ll come with,” Seonghwa said a little too eagerly. “I was also thinking of skipping so I could decompress.”

You didn’t think Seonghwa was serious until the two of you got into a cab and went all the way back to the hotel. The entire ride to the hotel, you kept glancing at Seonghwa. He had decided to head back wearing the outfit he was in— his incredibly sexy outfit that made your heart race. He had his eyes closed and leaned his head back into the headrest, his styled, messy hair getting messier. It took everything in you to keep from brushing his hair away from his face so you could see his delicate facial features clearly. He was so goddamn beautiful. He truly was meant to be an idol.

Seonghwa had his eyes closed because he, on the other hand, was trying so hard to keep his calm. He desperately wanted to hold your hand, stare into your eyes, hold you close— but in order to do any of those things comfortably, he had to tell you how he felt, and there was no way that he was going to do that in a cab ride. Despite having his eyes closed, he could still feel your gaze on him, and his face and ears got hotter.

When you got back to the hotel, you were going to head into your room, but Seonghwa wasn’t ready to let you go just yet, which is how you found yourself sitting at the hotel bar right next to the beautiful man.

You noticed that he seemed super nervous and antsy as he fidgeted with his cocktail glass— he was really nursing his whiskey, which made you wonder if he didn’t like the whiskey. You nearly laughed out loud thinking about Seonghwa ordering something that he didn’t like, but you kept your mouth clamped seeing as Seonghwa was just shifting super uncomfortably on the bar stool.

“Is everything okay?” you asked him quietly.

“Yes— Actually, uh, no. E-everything is, uh…” Seonghwa stuttered out, his knee bouncing wildly as his anxiety drove him.

“What’s wrong?”

Turning so that you were completely facing him, you placed a gentle hand on top of his hand, nearly sending the man spiraling. He knew you were trying to be helpful, but dear God, you were making it so much harder for him to be honest with his feelings. He felt like his heart was racing so fast that it would just burst right out of his chest. His face burned as you held his hand lightly. He could barely maintain eye contact with you, but the second he locked eyes with you and saw the worried look on your face, his completely lost it.

“I like you, Y/N. I really like you,” Seonghwa blurted out.

Seonghwa wanted to punch himself in the face. He was usually so smooth, so suave, but you made him so clumsy and graceless. He wanted to show you his cool side, for crying out loud.

Meanwhile, you were completely taken aback. You were sitting across from a freaking Korean idol listening to him tell you he liked you, and your delusional mind immediately thought that he liked you liked you. But, you refused to let the delusions win, so you responded with, “Thanks... I like you, too. You’re a really nice person, Seonghwa.”

“Huh?” Seonghwa was mildly confused; did he not just confess his feelings for you? “I— Wait. No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then, what did you mean?” you asked, your heart beginning to race.

Seonghwa laced his fingers with yours and held your hand to his chest. His eyes burned into yours as he gazed fondly at you and said, “I like you. I really like you.”

“You… Like me?”

“Yes. I have a huge crush on you,” now that Seonghwa practically confessed, he found it easier to be honest about his feelings with you. “I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, and I wanted to say something to you earlier, but I could never muster up the courage to say anything.”

You were flabbergasted, and your braincells were screaming at you. You could not believe that Seonghwa of ATEEZ, a goddamn K-pop boy group idol, was sitting next to you and telling you that he liked you.

“I…” you whispered. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Well, I guess for starters, I want to know how you feel about me. Do you like me, too?”

You went silent. You were so consumed with work for the past three weeks that you only really saw Seonghwa as someone you worked with and for. You always thought he was beautiful, but did you have romantic feelings for him?

Before you could even answer, Seonghwa placed his hand on your thigh, and your heart rate shoot through the roof. This man had you all sorts of flustered, so maybe you were attracted to him in that sense.

“I like you, too,” you managed squeak out.

Seonghwa could help but smile brightly, which only made you fall for him more.

There was a brief moment of silence between the two of you. You couldn’t help but avert your eyes— staring at the ethereal being for too long was making your heart pound heavily.

But, Seonghwa didn’t want you to look away. He wanted to stare at your lovely, blushing face as long as humanly possible. He usually loved seeing the huge, friendly smile on your face, but this shy look and knowing that it was him who made you look all flustered made him fall even harder for you, and he didn’t think it was possible for him to like you any more than he already did.

With the hand that was once on your thigh, Seonghwa brought his hand up to cup your face. He desperately wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want his first kiss with you to be at the bar in the hotel. So, the two of you went back to your room. (Originally, Seonghwa was going to take you to his room, but the sudden realization that he was sharing a room with one of the other members hit you in the elevator, and you steered him to your solo hotel room.

You entered the room first, Seonghwa following closely behind. He shut the door behind him before fully walking into your room while you went to the bathroom to get your shit together. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that ATEEZ’s Seonghwa had a crush on you. He had a crush on you, and that the delusions that you desperately tried to shoo away were suddenly becoming a reality. What an insanely peculiar situation.

Seonghwa’s mind was also racing. He didn’t intend to get you into an insanely intimate scenario— like, he just confessed his feelings for you, and now the two of you were alone in your hotel room? Crazy. Absolutely crazy. He sincerely hoped that you wouldn’t think he was doing this just to get into your pants. For him, sex wasn’t necessarily off the table, but it just wasn’t his intention.

When you emerged from the bathroom, both you and Seonghwa were sporting light blushes. The two of you stood before each other unable to utter a word, and the words continued to evade you as Seonghwa took small, timid steps towards you.

You looked right into Seonghwa’s eyes as his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you to him gently. You reached out and brushed his hair out of his face so you could get a better look at the man. On one hand, having him gaze at you so intensely made you want to shy away, but you couldn’t stop staring at him and his beautiful features. You loved how his nose fit his face so well, and his plush lips were still stained with lip tint— you wanted to see if you could get the tint to budge, but you stopped your intrusive thought before it could get any dirtier. You didn’t want to pounce on him so fast considering that the man just confessed his feelings.

Yet, you lusted for him. The way his arm was wrapped around you sent electricity running through your body, and when he brought you even closer so that your bodies were pressed together, you were losing your mind. When he wordlessly cupped your cheek then moved his hand so that his fingertips were resting on the side of your neck to allow him to rub your ear gently with his thumb, you wanted to let out a sigh or a moan or something to tell him that he was turning you way the fuck on (since you still couldn’t find a single damn thing to say).

“Can I…” Seonghwa trailed off, the blush on his face getting stronger.

The way his lips were parted slightly made you think that he wanted to pick up where you left off but was too shy to say it explicitly. So, with your hand on the back of his neck, you brought your lips to his and pecked them lightly, unable to bring yourself to add more passion. Seonghwa, instead, brought it, kissing you with such force that you definitely would’ve fallen to the ground had he not been holding you. You clung to him and felt your sanity slip away from you when he sucked hard on your lower lip, only to hungrily shove his tongue down your throat.

“Dammit,” you heard the man say in between kisses before moving away from you. “I didn’t want to… But, Y/N, I don’t think I can hold back.”

You were going to ask him what he was going on about, but you didn’t need to the second he pressed his waist against yours, his bulge throbbing as it pushed between your thighs. You brought your hand down and cupped his crotch, feeling it firm up even more against your palm. Seonghwa inhaled sharply and dropped his head down, his forehead resting on your shoulder, bringing your lips to his ear.

“Don’t hold back.”

[feralkat]

🫄2️⃣🚎🛑👖💦

The first build-a-birth prompt that came in and oh my God was it fun to write holy shit lol.

It got so long that I decided to split it into two parts, though 😅 so here's part one lmao. Also there will be twins - Atlas just doesn't know they've got twins in there so part two is gonna be pretty wild for them lol.

Word Count: 2.8k

Characters Used: Atlas (nonbinary afab OC) & Fen (cis-male OC)

WARNINGS: nonbinary character giving birth, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth, orgasm during labor. Also - I do use AFAB terms to describe the characters' genitalia so please be aware of that.

If it weren't already obvious, this is a birth/labor fetish fic so if you are a minor or not into that then DO NOT INTERACT. You have been warned.

Everyone had joked about how Atlas would end up going into labor during their baby-moon despite being only 36 weeks along. By the end of it they were beginning their 37th week, but even so their due date wasn't for three more weeks so it was easy to laugh those concerns off.

Except Atlas had been feeling increasingly more intense contractions since they left their hotel that morning that they were trying to brush off as Braxton hicks contractions.

At least until a small gush of fluid left a size-able damp spot on Atlas' leggings and made them realize they couldn't stay in denial for much longer about what was happening.

They were in labor.

Though, technically, labor didn't start during the baby-moon itself.

No, it started as they were leaving.

Now they were several hours away from the next stop and even further away from home where Atlas had everything set up to have a nice, relaxing, empowering birth with just themselves and their husband.

"Shit," Atlas grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the seat and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window as he felt a contraction start.

"Babe? You alright?"

Atlas glanced over at their husband, hazel eyes peaking out from behind blue and green dyed bangs. "My water broke," they mumbled in an exhale, taking in another deep breath and squeezing their eyes shut as they felt the pressure deep inside their pelvis drop even lower.

"Oh... Oh!" Fen exclaimed, having taken a moment to fully comprehend what Atlas said. "Guess those weren't just Braxton hicks contractions, huh?" Fen chuckled nervously, reaching over to take Atlas' hand.

"Yeah, guess not," Atlas sighed as the contraction passed.

"Do you think we'll make it home?" Fen asked, "If not I can look at hotels around the next stop. It won't be home but at least it won't be on a bus."

"Um," Atlas paused, thinking back to when the contractions first started around 10AM. It was nearly 6PM now, but for the majority of the time the contractions weren't too bad. The last half hour or so, Atlas had noticed growing pressure against his hips and lower back but assumed it was from the not-very-comfy bus seats. But then their water broke and that pressure had gotten worse without the cushion. "I don't know," they answered after a few seconds.

"Okay, how about... I'll book us a hotel near the next stop just in case and we'll reassess once we get there," Fen offered.

Atlas nodded their approval of the plan, grateful for Fen's ability to think logically even in panic-inducing moments.

Over the next two hours, Fen gently coached Atlas through contraction after contraction. The deep rumble of his voice, strong hand holding Atlas', and his general presence helped immensely to keep Atlas calm and focused despite everything else.

At some point Fen pushed the armrest between them out of the way so Atlas could lean on him, making for a much comfier position than sitting upright like they had been.

"There's... a lot of pressure," Atlas said between softly panted breaths. "I don't think it'll be much longer," they added.

"Okay, we should be at the stop soon," Fen reassured, draping an arm over Atlas' shoulders to gently rub circles against Atlas' swollen stomach. "Then we can go straight to the hotel and have this baby like we planned," Fen said, voice dipping into a low purr against Atlas' ear.

It made a shiver go down Atlas' spine, clit throbbing and making them aware of exactly how aroused they already were just from Fen talking to them and giving them instructions - even if those instructions were mainly how and when to breathe.

God, Atlas wished they were home.

A contraction brought Atlas out of their thoughts, making them tense until Fen reminded them to relax and breathe through it.

That was getting really hard, but Atlas made an effort. They took in a deep breath, trying to relax their body as much as they could as they let that breath out slowly.

"Again, babe, do it again," Fen urged, reaching down to massage the outside of Atlas' thigh where the muscles were still all tense.

"Ngh," Atlas grunted as they sucked in another breath, screwing their eyes shut as the contraction peaked and the pressure between their hips increased tenfold. Hardly even realizing it, they found themselves bearing down against it for the remainder of the contraction.

Once it was done, Atlas shifted to reposition so they were leaning back against Fen, one foot up on the seat and the other on the floor. The position let them spread their thighs a bit more and they moaned softly when they felt that pressure drop deep into their pelvis. "H-Hey, Fen," they mumbled, unable to help but rock their hips a little, "I think I have to push."

Fen didn't reply right away, lifting his head to glance around the bus first. There weren't many people, thankfully, and it seemed like they'd be getting to the bus stop soon but neither of them were sure if it'd be soon enough. "Okay. We're almost to the stop and the hotel is just around the corner from there. Try to breathe through it until we get there," Fen instructed, calm aside from a slight tremble to his otherwise even voice.

"I'll try, but..." Atlas trailed off, feeling their midsection tighten in another strong contraction.

"You got this, love. I know it's hard, I know you want to push but let's breathe through it," Fen cooed, his voice low and lips brushing against Atlas' ear as he spoke. "Feel the pressure, notice it and accept it as you breathe," he instructed, taking slow even breaths for Atlas to follow.

"Yeah, 'm feeling th-the pressure," Atlas groaned in one quick exhale, screwing their eyes shut and trying their best to match Fen's breathing. What really got them through the intense heavy pressure urging them to push, though, was focusing on Fen's fingers rubbing their thigh.

"You're doing so good sweet-tart," Fen rumbled, "Focus on my voice and we'll get through this."

Atlas nodded, unable to answer as they tried not to make a lot of noise. They could feel that heaviness shift and move down, knowing the baby's head was fully engaged and working its way through their cervix by now.

"You've got this, babe, doing so good for me," Fen purred as the contraction peaked.

There was only so much Atlas could do, though, when the contractions were doing enough to work the baby down through their cervix even without them pushing.

Just as the contraction was ending, there was a loud 'boom' and the bus jolted, tires screeching as it came to a very sudden stop.

Within half a second of the sound, Fen had both arms wrapped tight around Atlas and didn't loosen his grip until the bus was completely stopped.

"Fuck, Atlas are you okay?" Fen asked, calm facade breaking for a moment as panic crept into his voice.

"Yeah, I think so," Atlas answered, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm their racing heart. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Fen nodded, pressing a kiss against the top of Atlas' head.

"Sorry, folks!" the bus driver exclaimed, "Sounds like a tire gave up on us. The station has already been notified, though and someone should be here within the hour to fix us up."

Fen and Atlas sat in silence for a few seconds as that information sunk in. There was no way Atlas was going to make it through an extra hour - they were cutting it extremely close anyway.

"Fen," Atlas mumbled, tilting their head to look at their husband, "I don't know if... if we'll make it."

A small frown tugged at Fen's lips before he slowly answered, "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No," Atlas snapped, panic rising at just the mention of going to a hospital - especially one that was away from their home town that Atlas had never been to.

They've had enough medical trauma and shitty doctors to give them a lifetime of distrust for hospitals.

"Okay - That's okay," Fen reassured, finding one of Atlas' hands to hold. "Let's still try to breathe through it and we'll see how far we get."

"'Kay," Atlas grunted, hand tightening around Fen's as pain and pressure overwhelmed them.

The next couple of contractions went similarly, Atlas following Fen's instructions while trying to keep themselves quiet even as the pressure kept moving lower. It was getting difficult, though, especially when the intensity of the pressure didn't lessen at all after the most recent contraction ended.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nghhh," Atlas whined, squirming against Fen as they tried to find some sort of position that wouldn't be as terrible. "So much pressure," they complained, arching their back a little before collapsing against Fen with a defeated whine.

"I could give you a distraction, if you want," Fen offered, one of his hands trailing down over Atlas' swollen stomach to rub against the inside of their thigh before gently trailing over the seam of their leggings.

"Ah!" Atlas gasped at the unexpected sensation, their clit already swollen and sensitive from how Fen had been talking before. "Please," they said in a rush of air, thighs twitching open more.

Taking a glance around, Fen slipped his hand into Atlas' leggings once he was sure no one would see. "There you go, sweets, just focus on my hand and my voice," Fen encouraged, quickly finding Atlas' swollen clit and slowly rubbing circles over it.

Dropping his head back against Fen's shoulder, Atlas bit back a moan. It did help, though, able to focus on a different sensation rather than pain and pressure. "Sh-shit," Atlas groaned as another contraction hit and Fen sped up his fingers as it peaked. The pleasure took the edge off of the pain but stood no chance against easing the pressure and urges to push that Atlas felt. "Ngh! Ah, f-fuck," Atlas grunted as the contraction peaked.

Fen was telling them to pant through it, suck in air and then blow it out, do whatever they could just so they weren't holding their breath. That was hard, though, and Atlas found themselves giving little pushes with every forced exhale.

They didn't have a choice in the matter and fuck did it feel good to give in a little bit.

It was only after the contraction ended that Atlas realized on top of the pressure there was a new sensation just below their cervix - like they were being stretched and filled to their breaking point.

Everything was so intense, though, Atlas couldn't even say anything about it. They were reduced to a squirming, whimpering mess as the pleasure warred with the discomfort and that urge to push completely overtook them when their abdomen tightened again.

And Atlas was right - it felt so good to finally do what their body wanted them to.

Between that and Fen's fingers moving expertly over their clit, Atlas found themselves on the verge of an orgasm as they gasped in a breath and pushed.

That's what did it, Atlas unable to help but cry out and buck their hips as the orgasm washed over them even as their body kept bearing down.

By the time Atlas was coming down from that absolutely incredible orgasm, they could feel that that heaviness had completely filled their cunt and they were sure if they pushed just a little more that their lips would start to bulge and part.

"Oh my God, are you having a baby?!"

The shrill voice of a concerned stranger made Atlas' face go bright red, realizing she probably had heard them cumming just now.

Fen didn't remove his hands from Atlas' leggings which made Atlas' face burn even brighter as Fen tried to reassure the worried passenger.

Atlas was past the point of being able to speak coherently, though, especially as another contraction started not even seconds later.

"Oh - Ah - Nghh - No," Atlas whined as quietly as they could, their body now pushing without their consent. "Oh God, oh God. Fen!" Atlas gasped, feeling their hole start to stretch as the baby's head started to inch out.

But Fen was still trying to convince the lady - and now several other worried passengers - not to call 911 because they had it handled and that Atlas didn't want to go to the hospital.

Groaning through gritted teeth, Atlas felt the baby's head slide back in as the contraction ended. But they didn't get that relief for long, their contractions almost on top of each other by now.

Atlas hardly even noticed the small crowd that had gathered around their seat, all of their focus on trying (and partially failing) not to push again.

It didn't make much of a difference, though.

The baby's head was slowly making its way through. Every contraction brought it out further and further even though it always slipped back in as soon as the contractions were over.

At least until it didn't.

Unable to speak, Atlas grabbed Fen's wrist and moved his hand down just enough that he'd be able to feel the way Atlas' lips were bulging and the baby's head peaking out through them.

Atlas felt Fen's whole body tense for a moment, words faltering as he tried to soothe everyone who was trying to call an ambulance.

Then, he regained composure and with two fingers spread Atlas' lips just a little further so he could press his hand against the baby's head. With that position, Fen incidentally had the ball of his hand pressed firmly against Atlas' sensitive clit which sent entirely conflicting sensations through their body again.

As the next contraction came, Atlas found themselves unintentionally grinding against Fen's hand as they moved their hips in little circles like they had been this whole time.

And it felt so fucking good but also way too intense at the same time and Atlas couldn't hold back their moans, grunts, and whines anymore.

When that contraction peaked, Atlas gave a series of little pushes each accompanied with a small grunt.

It wasn't doing anything, though, and Atlas soon realized that Fen was keeping the baby from progressing more with firm but gentle pressure against its head.

"Hey, they're transferring us to a different bus, sweet-tart, it just got here," Fen's voice right in Atlas' ear was the only thing Atlas could hear outside of their own harsh breathing and pounding heartbeat. "The aisle is too narrow for me to pick you up but as soon as we're off the bus I'll be able to carry you, okay?"

Fuck.

There wasn't any other choice, though, so after Fen removed his hand from Atlas' leggings, Atlas slowly adjusted so they could stand.

Fen supported them the whole time but with every step Atlas could feel their labia bulging and spreading more and more. Not to mention the way their hole was starting to burn with the stretch as the baby began to crown.

The step down from the bus was the worst and the baby was nearly at a full crown by the time Fen was picking them up to carry them over to the other bus.

Thank fuck the other bus was a little bigger so Atlas didn't have to walk to a seat. Especially since a contraction started just as Fen was stepping up into the bus.

All Atlas could do was bury their face against Fen's shoulders and sob as that burning sensation just continued to get worse, their body pushing even though they were actively trying not to.

"Fen!" Atlas squealed as the rest of the baby's head popped out all at once, making their leggings bulge obscenely. "I-It's - Oh God - th-the head is - it's out," they stammered, clinging to Fen even as their husband gently laid them on the row of seats in the back of the bus.

"Okay, okay - Babe, just, I need you to let go of me so I can - uh - look and help," Fen said in a mumbled rush, standing once Atlas let go before kneeling between Atlas' feet. "We need to get these pants off, okay?" he asked, already reaching for the waistband of the leggings.

"Wait - waitwaitwait," Atlas gasped, keening as their abdomen cramped and tightened again. They could feel the baby turning and a shoulder trying to come out but their leggings didn't let that happen.

At least until Fen managed to pull the legging down - ignoring Atlas' pleas because they needed to come off - and several things happened all at once.

The first shoulder slid out, closely followed by the second one and, before Fen even had Atlas' leggings to their knees, the baby was born with a large gush of fluid.

[pastelsnowcat]

Three is a charm, two is not the same pt. 11

» [3 - Britney Spears] «

1:25 ─〇───── 3:33 ⇄◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Hello!! Second part of my first series/smut/ Drabble lmao, hope you guys enjoy <3

Minors, do not interact or I will chase you like a dog with rabies :) The blog is an adult space

Pairing: Yuki x Shoko x fem!reader

Second part so hopefully you read the first part and got the gist of it. Filthy, lesbian smut :) established polyamorous, lesbian relationship. Semi-public sex, masturbation

11.35pm

11.36pm

11.37pm

Time kept passing, and neither Shoko or Yuki were home yet- and you were bored. At this point in time you moved to your shared bedroom and were now laying in bed after stripping your shorts, now only wearing Yuki’s shirt- which was too big for you- and the black panties you stole from Shoko like a naughty puppy.

Thinking about Yuki got you all hot and bothered- but without at least one of your girls, you had to take the matter into your own hands.

Your hand creeps down your body, tactically moving underneath the black underwear and ghosting over your heated core. It reminds you of the way Shoko always touches you, calculated moves drawing out small gasps and whimpers as she never interrupts the intense eye contact.

With a defeated sigh you pull out your phone and set it up on the nightstand next to you. The first time you weren’t quite so successful and it slipped and dropped, but the second time it didn’t- the camera now capturing a perfect view of your body as you settled back into position.

“Really miss you two.. think you’d hurry ‘nd come home..” you admit to the camera but directing your request towards your pretty girlfriends, your plead followed by a soft sigh as you moved your hand down your panties again.

Once more, your mind starts to wander but focusing on her this time.

Shoko. Shoko. Shoko.

A chant racing through your head, causing you to tremble, to moan at the imaginary touch of your favorite doctor. Whereas Yuki is more energetic, fucks you like she hasn’t touched a woman in years- Shoko is a lot more calculated in her movements.

Memories of the broody brunette flood your mind and vivid images of her leaning against that wooden desk of hers, in her office, cause you to jump slightly as your fingertips barely graze your throbbing clit, a string of your arousal clinging onto them.

And you remember vividly.

Her, you, in her office late at night. You came to visit her during her night shift, and you two were all alone.

“Hmmm.. keep your legs open for me, can you do that?” She murmurs against your dripping cunt, lapping at your heated middle like a starving animal with expert fingers slowly pumping into you, scissoring you wide open for her.

Shoko knew exactly how to drive you mad, how to lick and suckle at your clit while her fingers worked into you ever so gently, her trimmed nails carefully dragging along your warm, wet walls.

“Shoko, Sho.. please-..” you begged quietly, pushing your hips further towards her soft lips and shaking underneath her touch.

Yuki might push you physically, pulling and twisting you into all kinds of positions and overstimulation your body and cunt for hours, using her strong hands and quick tongue and her favorite strap, but Shoko…

Shoko tortures you mentally, making you beg and plead and pray for her like she’s god herself. Your doctor wouldn’t spank you like Yuki would, no, but she will make you cry pretty tears until she would finally allow you to touch her already whenever you dared to disobey her, after she had touched herself so sinfully in front of you with your hands tied behind your back. Pushing her delicate fingers in- and out of her own, soaked cunt, never breaking eye contact with you.

Shoko could make you cum with her eyes alone, her intimidating gaze drilling into you much like her fingers and her beautiful dark, sleepy eyes never leaving the masterpiece that your body is- a sculpture in desperate need of polishing.

“Tsk Tsk..” she coos, her voice low and sultry and toxic. “So impatient.. needy lil’ thing, hm?”

Her tongue licks a strip up your core, before disappearing entirely into your clenching cunt alongside her fingers, watching you closely and registering every single twitch and shudder of your muscles, the way your soft skin twisted underneath her and how your breath was shallow and fast.

Shoko is a smoker, and a drinker. One could say she’s an addict to nicotine and alcohol- if only they knew her real fixation, cigarettes and booze and any other substance she has ever ingested paling in comparison to you. Even the craving of a cigarette after a hard day, or the warm embrace of whiskey in the evenings couldn’t ever compete with your sweet taste.

The only sweet thing Shoko enjoys, and simultaneously the reason why the doctor can’t stand any other sweet things- you’re more than enough for her tastebuds. Your arousal would cling onto Shoko’s tongue, stick at her teeth like chewy caramel, coating her entire mouth (and even her chin, so messy) with that delicious liquid she seeks.

Even Winnie the Pooh himself ain’t got shit on her when it comes to your honey.

“Why don’t you ask again, mh? For me, sweet girl..” she asks huskily, her cheek now resting against your thigh as she never halted the movement of her digits, massaging and rubbing your sweet spot.

“Fuck- please Sho-“ you ask, voice high and airy and so desperate. Desperate for the older woman.

“Watch your mouth, pretty” Shoko warns, her eyebrow twitching slightly at your use of cuss words. She doesn’t approve if you do, convinced you’re far too refined, too good for such expressions.

You’re her good girl after all, her sweet little girlfriend, her favorite trophy. Shoko never wasted a single thought about buying you pretty things or treating you to your favorite lunch. You deserve to be spoiled after all, don’t you? And when Yuki is just a little too rough on your body, fucking into you just a little too unhinged, Shoko would be right there to treat your little bruises and blemishes. It’s a deadly combination, but it just fits so perfectly- Yuki is a fighter, the heavy hitter. But Shoko is a healer in every way, and she’ll always put you back together just for Yuki to break you down entirely, and the circle would repeat itself. Again, and again.

“‘M sorry, sorry Sho, please- please, I’m begging you!” You cry out, hoping Shoko will notice the apologetic tone in your voice. With your favorite blonde you weren’t afraid to be bratty, you would push her buttons and see just how far you can extend your limits, but you want to be good for Shoko. You need to be good for Shoko.

With a simple nod, Shoko dove right back into your cunt. Her wrist is now picking up the pace and her tongue circles your clit with experience, gaze fixated on you like a lion stalking its prey. With every passing moment, the tension crackling and almost igniting in her office at Jujutsu tech, you got closer and closer to your climax.

And looking down was a mistake.

A mistake which catapulted you directly into your orgasm, too fast, too sudden to realize what was happening.

Shoko’s cheeks were flushed red, her pupils blown wide and making her eyes appear even darker than usual. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and the tip of her nose glistening underneath the dim lighting after it kept rubbing against your cunt, occasionally brushing your clit. It’s rare, a luxury, to see the brunette so heated about something. And her nonchalant demeanor nowhere to be seen- if Shoko is passionate about even just one thing, it’s to make you feel good, to show you how you deserve to be treated. And now she isn’t as put together as she usually is either, her lab coat hanging loosely off her shoulders and a droplet of her salvia- venom, according to your opinion, one that will drive you mad seeking more- running down the corner of her mouth.

And it’s unsure who’s more obsessed with whom- if you adore Shoko more, or if she’s more mesmerized by you. When you first met the intimidating doctor, well respected by her peers and a valuable asset to the sorcerer’s world, your breath got caught in your throat. She might not seem that way at first glance, but she’s a force to be reckoned with.

Like a panther she circled you, stalked you until she caught you between her claws with the intention of never letting you go again. And you’re more than willing to let her eat you alive, savor your flesh between her teeth and drink your blood if she had asked you to allow her.

“You’re okay, sweet girl.. cum for me, be good and I might just give you a treat” she reassures and commands with the same words, curling her fingers in a way she knew would heighten the pleasure of your ongoing climax, one that crashed over you and threatened to drown you.

You don’t mind drowning though, do you?

Not if it’s Shoko who’s pulling you under to take your breath away, to surround you entirely until there’s nothing but her. Shoko is your Narcissus, and you’re happy with drowning as long as it meant you could keep looking at her, keep existing within her enchanting presence as it is truly a privilege to be loved by her.

Second part y’all, third part will be up soon (hopefully) :> I’m so in love with Shoko oh my god. Anyways please let me know what you think about the use of my color usage and the format overall 🙏 still trying to figure it all out:)

This part is dedicated to @nanam0-0n , the biggest Shoko Simp I know except for me 😔